KJRIIIET^OOMSI 


iT^ 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 


"  It  was  a  beautiful  thing,  that  dance,  grotesque, 
pagan  and  yet  divine  " 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND 
THE  WINDS 

BY 

HARRIET  T.  COMSTOCK 

AUTHOR  OP 
JOYCE  OF  THE  NORTH  WOODS 

A  SON  OF  THE  HILLS 
JANET  OF  THE  DUNES,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

HARRY  SPAFFORD  POTTER 


GRO55ET   &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS         :         NEW    YORK 


Copyright,  1914,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


FOREWORD 

The  In-Place  cannot  be  found;  you  must  happen 
upon  it!  Hidden  behind  its  rugged  red  rocks  and 
hemlock-covered  hills,  it  lies  waiting  for  something 
to  happen.  It  has  its  Trading  Station,  to  and  from 
which  the  Canadian  Indians  paddle  their  canoes  — 
sometimes  a  dugout  —  bearing  rare,  luscious  blue 
berries  invitingly  packed  in  small  baskets  with  their 
own  green  leaves.  And  to  the  Station,  also,  go  the 
hardy  natives  —  good  English,  Scotch,  or  "Mixed" 
—  with  their  splendid  loads  of  fish. 

"White  fish  go:  pickerel  come"  —  but  always 
there  is  fish  through  summer  days  and  winter's  ice. 

There  is  a  lovely  village  Green,  around  which  the 
modest  homes  cluster  sociably.  Poor,  plain  places 
they  may  be,  but  never  dirty  nor  untidy.  And  the 
children  and  dogs!  Such  lovely  babies;  such  human 
animals.  They  play  and  work  together  quite  nat- 
urally and  are  the  truest  friends. 

A  little  church,  with  a  queer  pointed  spire  and  a 
beautiful  altar,  stands  with  open  doors  like  a  kindly 
welcome  to  all.  Back  of  this,  and  apologetically 
placed  behind  its  stockade  fence,  is  the  jail. 

To  have  a  jail  and  never  need  it!  What  more 
can  be  said  of  a  community?  But  you  are  told — 
if  you  insist  upon  it —  that  the  building  is  preserved 
as  a  warning,  and  if  any  one  should  by  chance  be 
forced  to  occupy  it,  "he  will  have  the  best  the 


.34737 


vi  FOREWORD 

place  affords"  —  for  justice  is  seasoned  with  mercy 
in  the  In-Place. 

If  you  would  know  the  aristocracy  of  the  hamlet 
you  must  leave  the  friendly  Green  and  the  pleasant 
water  of  the  Channel,  climb  the  red  rocks,  tread 
the  grassy  road  between  the  hemlocks  and  the 
pines,  and  find  the  farms.  For,  be  it  understood, 
by  one's  ability  to  wrench  a  living  from  the  soil  in- 
stead of  the  water  is  he  known  and  estimated.  To 
fish  is  to  gamble;  to  plant  and  reap  is  conservative 
business. 

Dreamer's  Rock  and  One  Tree  Island,  Far  Hill 
Place  and  Lonely  Farm,  safely  sheltered  they  lie, 
and  from  them,  in  obedience  to  the  "  Lure  of  the 
States,"  comes  now  and  again  an  adventurous  soul 
to  make  his  way,  if  so  he  may;  and  never  was  there 
a  braver,  truer  wanderer  than  Priscilla  of  Lonely 
Farm.  Equipped  with  a  great  faith,  a  straight 
method  of  thinking,  and  an  ideal  that  never  faded 
from  her  sight,  she,  by  the  help  of  the  Poor  Property 
Man,  found  her  place  and  her  work  awaiting  her. 
Love,  she  found,  too  —  love  that  had  to  be  tested 
by  a  man's  sense  of  honour  and  a  woman's  deter- 
mination, but  it  survived  and  found  its  fulfilment 
before  the  Shrine  in  the  woods  beyond  Lonely  Farm, 
where,  as  a  little  child,  Priscilla  had  set  up  her 
Strange  God  and  given  homage  to  it. 

HARRIET  T.  COMSTOCK. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"It  was  a  beautiful  thing,  that  dance,  grotesque, 
pagan  and  yet  divine  " Frontispiece 


PACING   PAOI 


"And  now,'  she  cried,  Til  keep  my  word  to  you. 
Here!  here!  here!'  The  bottles  went  whirling 
and  crashing  on  the  rocks  near  the  roadway  "  .  88 

'"You  mean,  by  this  device  you  will  make  me 
marry  you!  You'll  blacken  my  name,  bar  my 
father's  house  to  me,  and  then  you  will  be  gen- 
erous and —  marry  me?" 152 

"In  one  of  those  marvellous  flashes  of  regained  con- 
sciousness, the  man  upon  the  bed  opened  his 
eyes  and  looked,  first  at  Travers,  then  at  Priscilla  "  252 


The  Place  Beyond  the  Winds 

CHAPTER  I 

PRISCILLA  GLENN  stood  on  the  little  slope 
leading  down  from  the  farmhouse  to  the 
spring  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  lifted 
her  head  as  a  young  deer  does  when  it  senses  some- 
thing new  or  dangerous.  Suddenly,  and  entirely 
subconsciously,  she  felt  her  kinship  with  life,  her 
relation  to  the  lovely  May  day  which  was  more  like 
June  than  May  —  and  a  rare  thing  for  Kenmore  — 
whose  seasons  lapsed  into  each  other  as  calmly  and 
sluggishly  as  did  all  the  other  happenings  in  that 
spot  known  to  the  Canadian  Indians  as  The  Place 
Beyond  the  Wind  —  the  In-Place. 

Across  Priscilla's  straight,  young  shoulders  lay  a 
yoke  from  both  ends  of  which  dangled  empty  tin 
pails,  destined,  sooner  or  later,  to  be  filled  with  that 
peculiarly  fine  water  of  which  Nathaniel  Glenn  was 
so  proud.  Nathaniel  Glenn  never  loved  things  in  a 
human,  tender  fashion,  but  he  was  proud  of  many 
things  —  proud  that  he,  and  his  before  him,  had 
braved  the  hardships  of  farming  among  the  red, 
locky  hills  of  Kenmore  instead  of  wrenching  a  live- 

3 


4       THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

lihood  from  the  water.  This  capacity  for  tilling  the 
soil  instead  of  gambling  in  fish  had  made  of  Glenn, 
and  a  few  other  men,  the  real  aristocracy  of  the  place. 
Nathaniel's  grandfather,  with  his  wife  and  fifteen 
children,  had  been  the  first  white  settlers  of  Kenmore. 
So  eager  had  the  Indians  been  to  have  this  first 
Glenn  among  them  that  it  is  said  they  offered  him 
any  amount  of  land  he  chose  to  select,  and  Glenn  had 
taken  only  so  much  as  would  insure  him  a  decent 
farm  and  prospects.  This  act  of  restraint  had 
further  endeared  him  to  the  natives,  and  no  regret 
was  ever  known  to  follow  the  advent  of  the  estimable 
gentleman. 

The  present  Glenn  never  boasted;  he  had  no  need 
to;  the  plain  statement  of  fact  was  enough  to  secure 
his  elevated  position  from  mean  attack. 

Nathaniel  had  taught  himself  to  read  and  write  - 
a  most  unusual  thing  —  and  naturally  he  was  proud 
of  that.  Ke  was  proud  of  his  stern,  bleak  religion 
that  left  no  doubt  in  his  own  mind  of  his  perfect 
interpretation  of  divine  will.  He  was  proud  of  his 
handsome  wife  —  twenty  years  younger  than  him- 
self. Inwardly  he  was  proud  of  that,  within  himself, 
which  had  been  capable  of  securing  Theodora  where 
other  men  had  failed.  Theodora  had  caused  him 
great  disappointment,  but  Nathaniel  was  a  just 
man  and  he  could  not  exactly  see  that  his  disap- 
pointment was  due  to  any  deliberate  or  malicious 
act  of  Theodora's;  it  was  only  when  his  wife  showed 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS       5 

weak  tendencies  toward  making  light  of  the  matter 
that  he  hardened  his  heart. 

In  the  face  of  his  great  desire  and  his  modest 
aspirations, —  Theodora  had  borne  for  him  (that  was 
the  only  way  he  looked  at  it)  five  children  —  all 
girls,  when  she  very  well  knew  a  son  was  the  one 
thing,  in  the  way  of  offspring,  that  he  had  expected 
or  wanted. 

The  first  child  was  as  dark  as  a  little  Indian,  "so 
dark,"  explained  Nathaniel,  "that  she  would  have 
been  welcome  in  any  house  on  a  New  Year's  Day." 
She  lasted  but  a  year,  and,  while  she  was  a  regret, 
she  had  been  tolerated  as  an  attempt,  at  least,  in  the 
right  direction.  Then  came  the  second  girl,  a  soft, 
pale  creature  with  ways  that  endeared  her  to  the 
mother-heart  so  tragically  that  when  she  died  at  the 
age  of  two  Theodora  rebelliously  proclaimed  that 
she  wanted  no  other  children!  This  blasphemy 
shocked  Nathaniel  beyond  measure,  and  when,  a 
year  later,  twin  girls  were  born  on  Lonely  Farm,  he 
pointed  out  to  his  wife  that  no  woman  could  fly  in 
the  face  of  the  Almighty  with  impunity  and  she 
must  now  see,  in  this  double  disgrace  of  sex,  her 
punishment. 

Theodora  was  stricken;  but  the  sad  little  sisters 
early  escaped  the  bondage  of  life,  and  the  Glenns 
once  again,  childless  and  alone,  viewed  the  future 
superstitiously  and  with  awe.  Even  Nathaniel,  hope 
gone  as  to  a  son,  resignedly  accepted  the  fate  that 


6       THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

seemed  to  pursue  him.  Then,  after  five  years,  Pris- 
cilla  was  born,  the  lustiest  and  most  demanding  of 
all  the  children. 

"She  seems,"  said  Long  Jean,  the  midwife,  "to  be 
made  of  the  odds  and  ends  of  all  the  others.  She  has 
the  clear,  dark  skin  of  the  first,  the  blue  eyes  of  the 
second,  and  the  rusty  coloured  hair  and  queer  fea- 
tures of  the  twins." 

Between  Long  Jean  and  Mary  Terhune,  mid- 
wives,  a  social  rivalry  existed.  On  account  of  her 
Indian  taint  Long  Jean  was  less  sought  in  aristo- 
cratic circles,  but  so  great  had  been  the  need  the 
night  when  Priscilla  made  her  appearance,  that  both 
women  had  been  summoned,  and  Long  Jean,  ar- 
riving first,  and,  her  superior  skill  being  well  known, 
was  accepted. 

When  she  announced  the  birth  and  sex  of  the  small 
stranger,  Nathaniel,  smoking  before  the  fire  in  the 
big,  clean,  bare,  living-room,  permitted  himself  one 
reckless  defiance: 

"Not  wanted!"    Long  Jean  made  the  most  of  this. 

"And  his  pretty  wife  at  the  point  of  death,"  she 
gossiped  to  Mrs.  McAdam  of  the  White  Fish  Lodge; 
"and  there  is  this  to  say  about  the  child  being  a  girl: 
the  lure  of  the  States  can't  touch  her,  and  Nathaniel 
may  have  some  one  to  turn  to  for  care  and  what  not 
when  infirmity  overtakes  him.  Besides,  the  lass 
may  be  destined  for  the  doing  of  big  things;  those 
witchy  brats  often  are." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS       7 

"The  lure  don't  get  all  the  boys,"  muttered  Mary 
McAdam,  cautiously  thinking  of  her  Sandy,  aged 
five,  and  Tom,  a  bit  older. 

"All  as  amounts  to  much,"  Long  Jean  returned. 

And  in  her  heart  of  hearts  Mary  McAdam  knew 
this  to  be  true.  The  time  would  come  to  her,  as  it 
had  to  all  Kenmore  mothers,  when  she  would  have  to 
acknowledge  that  by  the  power  of  the  "lure"  were 
her  boys  to  be  tested. 

But  Priscilla  at  Lonely  Farm  showed  a  hardened 
disregard  of  her  state.  She  persisted  and  grew  sturdy 
and  lovely  in  defiance  of  tradition  and  conditions. 
She  was  as  keen-witted  and  original  as  she  was  inde- 
pendent and  charming.  Still  Theodora  took  long 
before  she  capitulated,  and  Nathaniel  never  suc- 
cumbed. Indeed,  as  years  passed  he  grew  to  fear 
and  dislike  his  young  daughter.  The  little  creature, 
in  some  subtle  way,  seemed  to  have  "  found  him  out" ; 
she  became,  though  he  would  not  admit  it,  a  materi- 
alized conscience  to  him.  She  made  him  doubt 
himself;  she  laughed  at  him,  elfishly  and  without 
excuse  or  explanation. 

Once  they  two,  sitting  alone  before  the  hearth  — 

Nathaniel  in  his  great  chair,  Priscilla  in  her  small  one 

-  faced  each  other  fearsomely  for  a  time;  then  the 

child  gave  the  gurgling  laugh  of  inner  understanding 

that  maddened  the  father. 

"What  you  laughing  at?"  he  muttered,  taking  the 
pipe  from  his  mouth. 


8       THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"You!"  Priscilla  was  only  seven  then,  but  large 
and  strong. 

"Me?     How  dare  you !" 

"You  are  so  funny.  If  I  screw  my  eyes  tight  I 
see  two  of  you.'* 

Then  Nathaniel  struck  her.  Not  brutally,  not 
maliciously;  he  wanted  desperately  to  set  himself 
right  by  —  old-time  and  honoured  methods  —  force 
of  authority! 

Priscilla  sprang  from  her  chair,  all  the  laughter 
and  joyousness  gone  from  her  face.  She  went  close 
to  her  father,  and  leaning  toward  him  as  though 
to  confide  the  warning  to  him  more  directly,  said 
slowly: 

"Don't  you  do  that  or  Cilia  will  hate  you!" 

It  was  as  if  she  meant  to  impress  upon  him  that 
past  a  certain  limit  he  could  not  go. 

Nathaniel  rose  in  mighty  wrath  at  this,  and,  white- 
faced  and  outraged,  darted  toward  the  rebel,  but  she 
escaped  him  and  put  the  width  of  the  room  and  the 
square  deal  table  between  them.  Then  began  the 
chase  that  suddenly  sank  into  a  degrading  and  un- 
dignified proceeding.  Around  and  around  the  two 
went,  and  presently  the  child  began  to  laugh  again 
as  the  element  of  sport  entered  in 

So  Theodora  came  upon  them,  and  her  deeper 
understanding  of  her  husband's  face  frightened  and 
spurred  her  to  action.  In  that  moment,  while  she 
feared,  she  loved,  as  she  had  never  loved  before,  her 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS       9 

small  daughter.  If  the  child  was  a  conscience  to  her 
stern  father,  she  was  a  materialization  of  all  the  sup- 
pressed defiance  of  the  mother,  and,  ignoring  con- 
sequences, she  ran  to  Priscilla,  gathered  her  in  her 
arms,  and  over  the  little,  hot,  panting  body,  con- 
fronted the  blazing  eyes  of  her  husband. 

And  Nathaniel  had  done  —  nothing;  said  nothing! 
In  a  moment  the  fury,  outwardly,  subsided,  but  deep 
in  all  three  hearts  new  emotions  were  born  never 
to  die. 

After  that  there  was  a  triangle  truce.  The  years 
slipped  by.  Theodora  taught  her  little  daughter 
to  read  by  a  novel  method  which  served  the  double 
purpose  of  quickening  the  keen  intellect  and  arousing 
a  housewifely  skill. 

The  alphabet  was  learned  from  the  labels  on  the 
cans  of  vegetables  and  fruits  on  Theodora's  shelves. 
There  was  one  line  of  goods  made  by  a  firm,  accord- 
ing to  its  own  telling,  high  in  the  favour  of  "their 
Majesties  So  and  So,"  that  was  rich  in  vowels  and 
consonants.  When  Priscilla  found  that  by  taking 
innocent  looking  little  letters  and  stringing  them 
together  like  beads  she  could  make  words,  she  was 
wild  with  delight,  and  when  she  discovered  that  she 
could  further  take  the  magic  words  and  by  set- 
ting them  forth  in  orderly  fashion  express  her  own 
thoughts  or  know  another's  thoughts,  she  was  happy 
beyond  description. 

"Father,"  she  panted  at  that  point,  her  hands 


io     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

clasped  before  her,  her  dark,  blue-eyed  face  flushing 
and  paling,  "will  you  let  me  go  to  Master  Farwell 
to  study  with  the  boys  ? " 

Nathaniel  eyed  her  from  the  top  step  of  the  porch; 
"with  the  boys"  had  been  fatal  to  the  child's 
request. 

"No,"  he  said  firmly,  the  old  light  of  antagonism 
glinting  suddenly  under  his  brow,  "girls  don't  need 
learning  past  what  their  mothers  can  give  them." 

"I  —  do!  I'm  willing  to  suffer  and  die,  but  I  do 
want  to  know  things."  She  was  an  intense  atom, 
and  from  the  first  thought  true  and  straight. 

A  sharp  memory  was  in  her  mind  and  it  lent  fer- 
vour to  her  words.  It  related  to  the  episode  of  the 
small,  fat  mustard  jar  which  always  graced  the 
middle  of  the  dining  table.  They  had  once  told  her 
that  the  contents  of  the  jar  "were  not  for  little 
girls." 

They  had  been  mistaken.  She  had  investigated, 
suffered,  and  learned!  Well,  she  was  ready  to  suffer 
—  but  learn  she  must! 

Nathaniel  shook  his  head  and  set  forth  his  scheme 
of  life  for  her,  briefly  and  clearly. 

"You'll  have  nothing  but  woman  ways  —  bad 
enough  you  need  them  —  they  will  tame  and  keep 
you  safe.  You'll  marry  early  and  find  your  pleasure 
and  duty  in  your  home." 

Priscilla  turned  without  another  word,  but  there 
was  an  ugly  line  between  her  eyes. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     11 

That  night  and  the  next  she  took  the  matter  before 
a  higher  judge,  and  fervently,  rigidly  prayed.  On 
the  third  night  she  pronounced  her  ultimatum. 
Kneeling  by  the  tiny  gable  window  of  her  grim  little 
bedchamber,  her  face  strained  and  intense,  her  big 
eyes  fixed  on  a  red,  pulsing  planet  above  the  hem- 
locks outside,  she  said: 

"Dear  God,  I'll  give  you  three  days  to  move  his 
stony  heart  to  let  me  go  to  school;  if  you  don't  do 
it  by  then,  I'm  going  to  worship  graven  images!" 

Priscilla  at  that  time  was  eight,  and  three  days 
seemed  to  her  a  generous  time  limit.  But  Nathaniel's 
stony  heart  did  not  melt,  and  at  the  end  of  the  three 
days  Priscilla  ceased  to  pray  for  many  and  many  a 
year,  and  forthwith  she  proceeded  to  worship  a 
graven  image  of  her  own  creation. 

A  mile  up  the  grassy  road,  beyond  Lonely  Farm 
and  on  the  way  toward  the  deep  woods,  was  an  open 
space  of  rich,  red  rock  surrounded  by  a  soft,  feathery 
fringe  of  undergrowth  and  a  few  well-grown  trees. 
From  this  spot  one  could  see  the  Channel  widened 
out  into  the  Little  Bay:  the  myriad  islands,  and, 
off  to  the  west,  the  Secret  and  Fox  Portages,  beyond 
which  lay  the  Great  Bay,  where  the  storms  raged  and 
the  wind  —  such  wind  as  Kenmore  never  knew  — 
howled  and  tore  like  a  raging  fiend! 

In  this  open  stretch  of  trees  and  rock  Priscilla 
set  up  her  own  god.  She  had  found  the  bleached 
skull  of  a  cow  in  one  of  her  father's  pastures;  this 


12     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

gruesome  thing  mounted  upon  a  forked  stick,  its 
empty  eye-sockets  and  ears  rilled  with  twigs  and 
dried  grasses,  was  sufficiently  pagan  and  horrible  to 
demand  an  entirely  unique  form  of  worship,  and 
this  Priscilla  proceeded  to  evolve.  She  invented 
weird  words,  meaningless  but  high-sounding;  she 
propitiated  her  idol  with  wild  dances  and  an  abandon 
of  restraint.  Before  it  she  had  moments  of  strange 
silence  when,  with  wonder-filled  eyes,  she  waited 
for  suggestion  and  impression  by  which  to  be  guided. 
Very  young  was  she  when  intuitively  she  sensed  the 
inner  call  that  was  always  so  deeply  to  sway  her. 
Through  the  years  from  eight  to  fourteen  Priscilla 
worshipped  more  or  less  frequently  before  her  secret 
shrine.  The  uncanny  ceremony  eased  many  an 
overstrained  hour  and  did  for  the  girl  what  should 
have  been  done  in  a  more  normal  way.  The  place 
on  the  red  rock  became  her  sanctuary.  To  it  she 
carried  her  daily  task  of  sewing  and  dreamed  her 
long  dreams. 

The  Glenns  rarely  went  to  church  —  the  distance 
was  too  great  —  but  Nathaniel,  looming  high  and 
stern  across  the  table  in  the  bare  kitchen,  morning 
and  night,  set  forth  the  rigid,  unlovely  creed  of  his 
belief.  This  fell  upon  Priscilla's  unheeding  ears, 
but  the  hours  before  the  shrine  were  deeply,  tenderly 
religious,  although  they  were  bright  and  merry  hours. 

Of  course,  during  the  years,  there  were  the  regular 
Kenmore  happenings  that  impressed  the  girl  to  a 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     13 

greater  or  lesser  degree,  but  they  were  like  pictures 
thrown  upon  a  screen  —  they  came,  they  went,  while 
her  inner  growth  was  steady  and  sure. 

Two  families,  one  familiar  and  commonplace,  the 
other  more  mystical  than  anything  else,  interested 
Priscilla  mightily  during  her  early  youth.  Jerry  and 
Michael  McAlpin,  with  little  Jerry-Jo,  the  son  of  old 
Jerry,  were  vital  factors  in  Kenmore.  They  occu- 
pied the  exalted  position  of  rural  expressmen,  and 
distributed,  when  various  things  did  not  interfere, 
the  occasional  freight  and  mail  that  survived  the 
careless  methods  of  the  vicinity. 

The  McAlpin  brothers  were  hard  drinkers,  but 
they  were  most  considerate.  When  Jerry  indulged, 
Michael  remained  sober  and  steady;  when  Michael 
fell  before  temptation,  Jerry  pulled  himself  together 
in  a  marvellous  way,  and  so,  as  a  firm,  they  had  sur- 
mounted every  inquiry  and  suspicion  of  a  relentless 
government  and  were  welcomed  far  and  wide,  not 
only  for  their  legitimate  business,  but  for  the  amount 
of  gossip  and  scandal  they  disbursed  along  with  their 
load.  Jerry- Jo,  the  son  of  the  older  McAlpin,  was 
four  years  older  than  Priscilla  and  was  the  only  really 
young  creature  who  had  ever  entered  her  life  in- 
timately. 

The  other  family,  of  whom  the  girl  thought 
vaguely,  as  she  might  have  of  a  story,  were  the 
Travers  of  the  Far  Hill  Place. 

Now  it  might  seem  strange  to  more  social  minds 


i4     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

that  people  from  a  distant  city  could  come  summer 
after  summer  to  the  same  spot  and  yet  remain  un- 
known to  their  nearest  neighbours;  but  Kenmore 
was  not  a  social  community.  It  had  all  the  reserve 
of  its  English  heritage  combined  with  the  suspicion 
of  its  Indian  taint,  and  it  took  strangers  hard.  Then, 
added  to  this,  the  Traverses  aroused  doubt,  for  no 
one,  especially  Nathaniel  Glenn,  could  account  for  a 
certain  big,  heavy-browed  man  who  shared  the  home 
life  of  the  Hill  Place  without  any  apparent  right  or 
position.  For  Mrs.  Travers,  Glenn  had  managed 
to  conjure  up  a  very  actual  distrust.  She  was  too 
good-looking  and  free-acting  to  be  sound;  and  her 
misshapen  and  delicate  son  was,  so  the  severe  man 
concluded,  a  curse,  in  all  probability,  for  past  of- 
fences. The  youth  of  Kenmore  was  straight  and 
hearty,  unless  —  and  here  Nathaniel  recalled  his  su- 
perstitions —  dire  vengeance  was  wreaked  on  parents 
through  their  offspring. 

With  no  better  reason  than  this,  and  with  the 
stubbornness  he  mistook  for  strength,  Glenn  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  his  neighbours,  four  miles 
back  in  the  woods,  and  had  forbidden  the  sale  of 
milk  and  garden  stuff  to  them. 

All  this  Priscilla  had  heard,  as  children  do,  but 
she  had  never  seen  any  member  of  the  family  from 
the  Far  Hill  Place,  and  mentally  relegated  them  to 
the  limbo  of  the  damned  under  the  classification 
of  "them,  from  the  States."  Their  name,  even,  was 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     15 

rarely  mentioned,  and,  while  curiosity  often  swayed 
her,  temptation  had  never  overruled  obedience. 

The  McAlpins,  with  all  their  opportunity  and 
qualifications,  found  little  about  the  strangers  from 
which  to  make  talk.  The  family  were  reserved,  and 
Tough  Pine,  the  Indian  guide  they  had  impressed 
into  summer  service,  was  either  bought  or,  from  nat- 
ural inclination,  kept  himself  to  himself. 

So,  until  the  summer  when  she  was  fourteen, 
Priscilla  Glenn  knew  less  about  the  Far  Hill  people 
than  she  did  about  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  and 
hell,  with  whom  her  father  was  upon  such  intimate 
and  familiar  terms. 

Once,  when  Priscilla  was  ten,  something  had  oc- 
curred which  prepared  her  for  following  events.  It 
was  a  bright  morning  and  the  McAlpin  boat  stopped 
at  the  wharf  of  Lonely  Farm.  While  old  Jerry 
went  to  the  farmhouse  with  a  package,  Jerry-Jo 
remained  on  guard  deeply  engrossed  in  a  book  he  had 
extracted  from  a  box  beneath  the  seat.  He  ap- 
peared not  to  notice  Priscilla,  who  ran  down  the 
path  to  greet  him  in  friendly  fashion. 

The  boy  was  about  fifteen  then,  and  all  the  bloods 
of  his  various  ancestors  were  warring  in  his  veins. 
His  mother  had  been  a  full-blooded  Indian  from 
Wyland  Island,  had  drawn  her  four  dollars  every 
year  from  the  English  Government,  and  ruled  her 
family  with  an  iron  hand;  his  father  was  Scotch- 
Irish,  hot-blooded  and  jovial;  Jerry-Jo  was  a  com- 


16     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

posite  result.  Handsome,  moody,  with  flashes  of 
fun  when  not  crossed,  a  good  comrade  at  times,  an 
unforgiving  enemy. 

He  liked  Priscilla,  but  she  was  his  inferior,  by 
sex,  and  she  sorely  needed  discipline.  He  meant  to 
keep  her  in  her  place,  so  he  kept  on  reading.  Pris- 
cilla at  length,  however,  attracted  his  attention. 

"Hey-ho,  Jerry-Jo!" 

"Hullo!" 

"Where  did  you  get  the  book?" 

"It's  for  him  up  yonder." 

And  with  this  Jerry-Jo  stood  up,  turned  and 
twisted  his  lithe  body  into  such  a  grotesque  dis- 
tortion that  he  was  quite  awful  to  look  upon,  and 
left  no  doubt  in  the  girl's  mind  as  to  whom  he  re- 
ferred. He  brought  the  Far  Hill  people  into  focus, 
sharply  and  suddenly. 

"He  has  miles  of  books,"  Jerry- Jo  went  on,  "and 
a  fiddle  and  pictures  and  gewgaws.  He  plays  devil 
tunes,  and  he's  bewitched!" 

This  description  made  the  vague  boy  of  the  woods 
real  and  vital  for  the  first  time  in  Priscilla's  life,  and 
she  shuddered.  Then  Jerry-Jo  generously  offered 
to  lend  her  one  of  the  books  until  his  father  came 
back,  and  Priscilla  eagerly  stepped  from  stone  to 
stone  until  she  could  reach  the  volume.  Once  she 
had  obtained  the  prize  she  went  back  to  the  gar- 
den and  made  herself  comfortable,  wholly  forgetting 
Jerry- Jo  and  the  world  at  large. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     17 

It  was  the  oddest  book  she  had  ever  seen.  The 
words  were  arranged  in  charming  little  rows,  and 
when  you  read  them  over  and  over  they  sang  them- 
selves into  your  very  heart.  They  told  you,  lilting 
along,  of  a  road  that  no  one  but  you  ever  knew  —  a 
road  that  led  in  and  out  through  wonders  of  beauty 
and  faded  at  the  day's  end  into  your  heart's  desire. 
Your  Heart's  Desire! 

And  just  then  Jerry-Jo  cried: 

"Hey,  there!  you,  Priscilla,  come  down  with  that 
book." 

"Your  Heart's  Desire!"  Priscilla's  eyes  were 
misty  as  she  repeated  the  words.  Indeed,  one  large, 
full  tear  escaped  the  blue  eyes  and  lay  like  a  pitiful 
kiss  on  the  fair  page,  where  there  was  a  broad,  gen- 
erous space  for  tears  on  either  side  of  the  lines. 

"Hist!     Father's  coming!" 

Then  Priscilla  stood  up  and  a  demon  seemed  to 
possess  her. 

"I'm  not  going  to  give  it  back  to  you !  It's  mine ! " 
she  cried  shrilly. 

Jerry-Jo  made  as  if  he  were  about  to  dash  up  the 
path  and  annihilate  her,  but  she  stayed  him  by  hold- 
ing the  book  aloft  and  calling: 

"If  you  do  I'll  throw  it  in  the  Channel!"  She 
looked  equal  to  it,  too,  and  Jerry- Jo  swore  one  angry 
word  and  stopped  short.  Then  the  girl's  mood 
changed.  Quite  gently  and  noiselessly  she  ran  to 
Jerry- Jo  and  held  the  opened  book  toward  him. 


1 8     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

His  keen  eye  fell  upon  the  tear-stain,  but  his  coarser 
nature  wrongly  interpreted  it. 

"You  imp!"  he  cried;  "you  spat  upon  it!" 
But  Priscilla  shook  her  head.     "No  —  it's  a  tear," 
she   explained;    "and,   oh!   Jerry-Jo,  it   is  mine  — 
listen!  —  you  cannot  take  it  away  from  me." 

And  standing  there  upon  the  rock  she  repeated 
the  words  of  the  poem,  her  rich  voice  rising  and  fall- 
ing musically,  and  poor  Jerry- Jo,  hypnotized  by  that 
which  he  could  not  comprehend,  listened  open- 
mouthed. 

And  now,  again,  it  was  spring  and  Priscilla  was 
fourteen.  Standing  in  the  garden  path,  her  yoke 
across  her  shoulders,  her  ears  straining  at  the 
sound  she  heard,  the  old  poem  returned  to  her  as 
it  had  not  for  years.  She  faltered  over  the  words 
at  the  first  attempt,  but  with  the  second  they  rushed 
vividly  to  her  mind  and  seemed  set  to  the  music  of 
that  "pat-pat-pat"  sound  on  the  water.  An  un- 
accountable excitement  seized  her  —  that  new  but 
thrilling  sense  of  nearness  and  kinship  to  life  and  the 
lovely  meaning  of  spring.  She  was  no  longer  a  little 
girl  looking  on  at  life;  she  was  part  of  it;  and  some- 
thing was  going  to  happen  after  the  long  shut-in 
winter! 

And  presently  the  McAlpin  boat  came  hi  sight 
around  Lone  Tree  Island  and  in  it  stood  Jerry- Jo 
quite  alone,  paddling  straight  for  the  landing-place! 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     19 

For  a  moment  Priscilla  hardly  knew  him.  The  win- 
ter had  worked  a  wonder  upon  him.  He  was  almost 
a  man!  He  had  the  manners,  too,  of  his  kind  — 
he  ignored  the  girl  on  the  rocks. 

But  he  had  seen  her;  seen  her  before  she  had  seen 
him.  He  had  noted  the  wonderful  change  in  her, 
for  eighteen  is  keen  about  fourteen,  particularly 
when  fourteen  is  full  of  promise  and  belongs,  in  a 
sense,  to  one. 

The  short,  ugly  frock  Priscilla  wore  could  not  hide 
the  beauty  and  grace  of  her  young  body  —  the 
winter  had  wiped  out  forever  her  awkward  length 
of  limb.  Her  reddish  hair  was  twisted  on  the  top 
of  her  head  and  made  her  look  older  and  more  ma- 
ture. Her  uplifted  face  had  the  shining  radiancy 
that  was  its  chief  charm,  and  as  Jerry-Jo  looked  he 
was  moved  to  admiration,  and  for  that  very  reason 
he  assumed  indifference  and  gave  undivided  atten- 
tion to  his  boat. 


CHAPTER  II 

WITH  skill  and  grace  Jerry- Jo  steered  his 
boat  to  the  landing-place  at  the  foot  of 
the  garden.     He  leaped  out  and  tied  the 
rope  to  the  ring  in  the  rocks,  then  he  waited  for  Pris- 
cilla  to  pay  homage,   but  Priscilla  was  so  absorbed 
with   her   own   thoughts    that  she  overlooked   the 
expected  tribute  of  sex  to  sex.     At  last  Jerry-Jo 
stood  upright,  legs  wide  apart,  hands  in  pockets, 
and,    with    bold,    handsome    face    thrown    back, 
cried : 

"Well,  there!" 

At  this  Priscilla  started,  gave  a  light  laugh,  and 
readjusting  her  yoke,  walked  down  to  the  young  fel- 
low below. 

"It's  Jerry- Jo,"  she  said  slowly,  still  held  by  the 
change  in  him;  "and  alone!" 

"Yes."  Jerry- Jo  gave  a  gleaming  smile  that 
showed  all  his  strong,  white  teeth  —  long,  keen 
teeth  they  were,  like  the  fangs  of  an  animal. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  asked  Priscilla. 

"Uncle's  dead,"  the  boy  returned  promptly  and 
cheerfully;  "dead,  and  a  good  thing.  He  was  getting 
cranky." 

20 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     21 

Priscilla  started  back  as  if  the  mention  of  death 
on  that  glorious  day  cast  a  cloud  and  a  shadow. 

"And  your  father,  Jerry- Jo,  is  he,  too,  dead?" 

"No.     Dad,  he  is  in  jail!" 

"In  —  jail!"  Never  in  her  life  before  had  Pris- 
cilla known  of  any  One  being  in  Kenmore  jail.  The 
red,  wooden  house  behind  its  high,  stockade  fence 
was  at  once  the  pride  and  relic  of  the  place.  To  have 
a  jail  and  never  use  it!  What  more  could  be  said 
for  the  peaceful  virtues  of  a  community? 

"Yes.  Dad's  in  jail  and  in  jail  he  will  stay,  says 
he,  till  them  as  put  him  there  begs  his  pardon  humble 
and  proper." 

Priscilla  now  dropped  the  yoke  upon  the  rocks  and 
gave  her  entire  thought  to  Jerry-Jo,  who,  she  could 
see,  was  bursting  with  importance  and  a  sense  of  the 
dramatic. 

"What  did  your  father  do,  Jerry- Jo?" 

"It  was  like  this:  Uncle  Michael  died  and  the 
wake  we  had  for  him  was  the  most  splendid  you  ever 
saw.  Bottles  and  kegs  from  the  White  Fish  and 
money  to  pay  for  all,  too!  Every  one  welcome  and 
free  to  say  his  say  and  drink  his  fill.  I  got  drunk 
myself!  Long  about  midnight  Big  Hornby  he  said 
as  how  he  once  licked  Uncle  Michael,  and  Dad  he 
cried  back  that  to  blacken  a  man's  name  when  he 
was  too  dead  to  stand  up  for  it  was  a  dirty  trick,  and 
so  it  was!  Then  it  was  forth  and  back  for  a  time, 
with  compliments  and  what  not,  and  if  you  please 


22     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

just  as  Dad  sent  a  bit  of  a  stool  at  Big  Hornby, 
who  should  come  in  at  the  door  but  Mr.  School- 
master, him  as  had  no  invite  and  was  not  wanted! 
The  stool  took  him  full  on  the  arm  and  broke  it  — 
the  arm  —  and  folks  took  sides,  and  some  one,  after 
a  bit,  got  Dad  from  under  the  pile  and  tried  to  make 
him  beg  pardon!  Beg  pardon  at  his  own  wake  in 
his  own  home,  and  Schoolmaster  taking  chances 
coming  when  he  was  not  invited!  Umph!" 

Jerry- Jo's  eyes  flashed  superbly. 

"Til  go  to  jail  first  and  be  damned,'"  said  Dad, 
and  that  put  it  in  the  mind  of  Big  Hornby,  and  he 
up  and  says,  'To  jail  with  him!'  And  so  they  takes 
Dad,  thinking  to  scare  him,  and  claps  him  into  jail, 
not  even  mending  the  lock  or  nailing  up  the  boards. 
That's  three  days  since,  and  yesterday  Hornby  he 
comes  to  Dad  and  says  as  how  a  steamer  was  in 
with  mail  and  freight  and  who  was  to  carry  it  around  ? 
And  Dad  says  as  how  I  was  a  man  now  and  could 
hold  up  the  honour  of  the  family,  says  he,  and  more- 
over, says  Dad,  'I'll  neither  eat  nor  come  out  till 
you  come  to  your  senses  and  beg  pardon  for  mis- 
taking a  joke  for  an  insult!" 

Jerry-Jo  paused  to  laugh.     Then: 

"So  here  am  I  with  the  boatload  —  there's  a  box 
of  seeds  for  your  father  —  and  then  I'm  off  to  the 
Hill  Place,  for  them  as  stays  there  has  come,  and 
there  are  boxes  and  packages  for  them  as  usual." 

Jerry-Jo  proceeded  to  extract  Mr.   Glenn's  box 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     23 

from  the  boat,  and  Priscilla,  her  clear  skin  flushed 
with  excitement,  drew  near  to  examine  the  cargo. 

"More  books!5'  she  gasped.  "Oh,  Jerry- Jo,  do 
you  remember  the  first  book?" 

"Do  I?"  Jerry- Jo  had  shouldered  the  box  of 
seeds  and  now  bent  upon  the  girl  a  glad,  softened 
look. 

"Do  I?  You  was  a  wild  thing  then,  Priscilla. 
And  I  told  him  about  the  slob  of  a  tear  and  he 
laughed  in  his  big,  queer  way,  and  he  said,  I  remem- 
ber well,  that  by  that  token  the  book  was  more 
yours  than  his,  and  he  wanted  me  to  carry  it  back, 
but  I  knew  what  was  good  for  you,  and  I  would  not! 
See  here,  Priscilla,  would  you  like  to  have  a  peek 
at  this  ? "  And  then  Jerry-Jo  put  his  burden  down, 
and,  returning  to  the  boat,  drew  from  under  the 
seat  a  book  in  a  clean  separate  wrapper  and  held  it 
out  toward  her. 

"Oh!"     The  hands  were  as  eager  as  of  old. 

"  What  will  you  give  for  it  ? "  A  deep  red  mounted 
to  the  young  fellow's  cheeks. 

"Anything,  Jerry-Jo." 

"A  — kiss?" 

"Yes"  — doubtfully;  "yes." 

The  book  was  in  the  outstretched  hands,  the  hot 
kiss  lay  upon  the  smooth,  girlish  neck,  and  then 
they  looked  at  each  other. 

"It  —  is  his  book?" 

'No.    Yours  —  I  sent  for  it,  myself." 


tc 


24     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Oh!     Jerry-Jo.     And  how  did  you  know?" 

"I  copied  it  from  that  one  of  his." 

Priscilla  tore  the  wrappings  asunder  and  saw  that 
the  book  was  a  duplicate  of  the  one  over  which,  long 
ago,  she  had  loved  and  wept. 

"Thank  you,  Jerry-Jo,"  the  voice  faltered;  "but 
I  wish  it  —  had  the  tear  spot." 

"That  was  his  book;  this  is  yours."  An  angry 
light  flashed  in  Jerry-Jo's  eyes.  He  had  arranged 
this  surprise  with  great  pains  and  had  used  all  his 
savings. 

"But  it  cannot  be  the  same,  Jerry-Jo.  Thank 
you  —  but " 

"Give  us  another  kiss?"  The  young  fellow 
begged. 

Priscilla  drew  back  and  held  out  the  book. 

"No."  She  was  ready  to  relinquish  the  poems, 
but  she  would  not  buy  them. 

"Keep  the  book  —  it's  yours." 

Jerry-Jo  scowled.  And  then  he  shouldered  the 
box  and  ran  up  the  path.  When  he  came  back 
Priscilla  was  gone,  and  the  spring  day  seemed  com- 
monplace and  dull  to  Jerry-Jo;  the  adventure  was 
over.  Priscilla  had  filled  her  pails  and  had  carried 
them  and  the  book  to  the  house.  Something  had 
happened  to  her,  also.  She  was  out  of  tune  with  the 
sunlight  and  warmth;  she  wanted  to  get  close  to 
life  again  and  feel,  as  she  had  earlier,  the  kin- 
ship and  joy,  but  the  mood  had  passed. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     25 

It  was  after  the  dishes  of  the  midday  meal  were 
washed  that  she  bethought  her  of  the  old  shrine  back 
near  the  woods.  It  was  many  a  day  since  she  had 
been  there  —  not  since  the  autumn  before  —  and 
she  felt  old  and  different,  but  still  she  had  a  sudden 
desire  to  return  to  it  and  try  again  the  mystic  rite 
she  had  practised  when  she  was  a  little  girl.  It  was 
like  going  back  to  play,  to  be  sure;  all  the  sacredness 
was  gone,  but  the  interest  remained,  and  her  yearn- 
ing spurred  her  to  her  only  resource. 

At  two  o'clock  Nathaniel  was  off  to  a  distant  field, 
and  Theodora  announced  that  she  must  walk  to  the 
village  for  a  bit  of  "erranding."  She  wanted  Pris- 
cilla  to  join  her,  thinking  it  would  please  the  girl, 
but  Priscilla  shook  her  head  and  pleaded  a  weariness 
that  was  more  mental  than  physical.  At  three 
o'clock,  arrayed  in  a  fresh  gown,  over  which  hung  a 
red  cape,  Priscilla  stole  from  the  house  and  made  her 
way  to  the  opening  near  the  woods.  As  she  drew 
close  the  power  of  suggestion  overcame  the  new 
sense  of  age  and  indifference;  the  witchery  of  the 
place  held  her;  the  old  charm  reasserted  itself;  she 
was  being  hypnotized  by  the  Past.  Tiptoeing  to 
the  niche  in  the  rock  she  drew  away  the  sheltering 
boughs  and  branches  she  had  placed  there  one 
golden  September  day.  The  leaves  had  been  red 
and  yellow  then;  they  were  stiff  and  brown  now. 
The  leering  skull  confronted  her  as  it  had  in  the 
past  and  changed  her  at  once  to  the  devotee. 


26     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Before  the  dead  thing  the  live,  lovely  creature 
bowed  gravely.  After  all,  had  not  the  image,  in- 
stead of  God,  answered  her  first  prayer?  Nathaniel's 
heart  had  not  been  softened  and  school  had  not  been 
permitted,  but  there  had  been  lessons  given  by  the 
master  when  she  told  him  of  her  new  god.  How  he 
had  laughed,  clapping  his  knees  with  his  long,  thin, 
white  hands!  But  he  had  taught  her  on  hillside 
and  woodland  path.  No  one  knew  this  but  them- 
selves and  the  strange  idol! 

A  rapt  look  spread  over  Priscilla's  face;  the  look  of 
the  worshipper  who  could  lose  self  in  a  passion.  But 
this  was  no  dread  god  that  demanded  unlovely  sac- 
rifice. It  was  a  glad  creature  that  desired  laughter, 
song,  and  dance.  Priscilla  had  seen  to  that.  A 
repetition  of  her  father's  creed  would  have  been  un- 
endurable. 

"Skib,  skib,  skibble  — de  — de  — dosh!" 

Again  the  deep  and  sweeping  courtesy  and  chant- 
ing of  the  weird  words.  The  final  ''dosh!"  held,  in 
its  low,  fierce  tone,  all  the  significance  of  abject  ador- 
ation. With  that  "dosh"  had  the  child  Priscilla 
wooed  the  favour  and  recognition  of  the  god.  It  was 
a  triumph  of  appeal. 

And  then  the  dance  began  —  the  wild,  fantastic 
steps  full  of  grace  and  joy  and  the  fury  and  passion 
of  youth.  Round  and  round  spun  the  slight  form, 
with  arms  over  head  or  spread  wide.  The  red  cape 
floated,  rising  and  falling;  the  uplifted  face  changed 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     27 

with  every  moment's  flitting  thought.  It  was  a 
beautiful  thing,  that  dance,  grotesque,  pagan,  and 
yet  divine,  and  through  it  all,  panting  and  pulsing, 
sounded  the  strange,  incomprehensible  words: 

"Skib,  skib,  skibble  —  de  —  de  —  dosh!" 

While  the  rite  was  at  high  tide  a  young  fellow, 
lying  prone  under  a  clump  of  trees  beyond  the  open 
space,  looked  on,  first  in  amaze  mingled  with  amuse- 
ment, and  then  with  delight  and  admiration.  He 
had  never  seen  anything  at  once  so  heathenish  and 
so  exquisite.  To  one  hampered  and  restricted  as 
he  was  in  bodily  freedom,  the  absolute  grace  was 
marvellous,  but  the  uncanny  words  and  the  girl's 
apparent  seriousness  gave  a  touch  of  unreality  to 
the  scene.  Presently,  from  sheer  inability  to  further 
control  himself,  the  looker-on  gave  a  laugh  that  rent 
the  stillness  of  the  afternoon  like  a  cruel  shock. 

Priscilla,  horrified,  paused  in  the  midst  of  a  wild 
whirl  and  listened,  her  eyes  dilating,  her  nostrils 
twitching.  She  waited  for  another  burst  that  would 
make  her  understand. 

Having  given  vent  to  that  one  peal  of  mirth, 
Richard  Travers  pulled  himself  to  a  sitting  position, 
and,  by  so  doing,  presented  his  head  and  shoulders 
to  the  indignant  eyes  of  Priscilla  Glenn. 

"Oh!"  cried  she;  "how  dare  you!" 

And  now  Travers  got  rather  painfully  upon  his 
feet,  and,  with  fiddle  under  one  arm  and  book  under 
the  other,  came  forward  into  the  open  and  inclined 


28     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

his  uncovered  head.  He  was  twenty  then,  fair 
and  handsome,  and  in  his  gray  eyes  shone  that  kind- 
liness that  was  doomed  later  on  to  bring  him  so 
much  that  was  both  evil  and  good. 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  know  I  was  on 
sacred  ground.  I  just  happened  here,  you  see,  and 
I  could  not  help  the  laugh;  it  was  the  only  compli- 
ment I  could  pay  for  anything  so  lovely  —  so  utterly 
lovely." 

Priscilla  melted  at  once  and  fear  fled.  Not  for 
an  instant  did  she  connect  this  handsome  fellow  with 
the  crooked  wrongdoer  of  the  Hill  Place.  Jerry- 
Jo's  long-ago  description  had  been  too  vivid  to  be 
forgotten,  and  this  stranger  was  one  to  charm  and 
win  confidence. 

"Will  you  —  oh!  please  do  —  let  me  play  for 
you?  You  dance  like  a  nymph.  Do  you  know 
what  a  nymph  is?" 

Priscilla  shook  her  head. 

"Well,  it's  the  only  thing  that  can  dance  like  you; 
the  only  thing  that  should  ever  be  allowed  to  dance 
in  the  woods.  Come,  now,  listen  sharp,  and  as  I  play, 
keep  step." 

Leaning  against  a  strong  young  hemlock,  Dick 
Travers  placed  his  fiddle  and  struck  into  a  giddy, 
tuneful  thing  as  picturesque  as  the  time  and  occasion. 
With  head  bent  to  one  side  and  eyes  and  lips  smiling, 
Priscilla  listened  until  something  within  her  caught 
and  responded  to  the  tripping  notes.  At  first  she 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     29 

went  cautiously,  feeling  her  way  after  the  enchanted 
music,  then  she  gained  courage,  and  the  very  heart 
of  her  danced  and  trembled  in  accord. 

"Fine!  fine!  Now  —  slower;  see  it's  the  nymph 
stepping  this  way  and  that!  Forward,  so!  Now!" 

And  then,  exhausted  and  laughing  madly,  Pris- 
cilla  sank  down  upon  a  rock  near  the  musician,  who, 
seeing  her  worn  and  panting,  played  on,  without  a 
word,  a  sweet,  sad  strain  that  brought  tears  to  the 
listener's  eyes  —  tears  of  absolute  enjoyment  and 
content.  She  had  never  heard  music  before  in  all 
her  bleak,  colourless  life,  and  Dick  Travers  was  no 
mean  artist,  in  his  way. 

"And  now,"  he  said  presently,  sitting  down  a  few 
feet  from  her,  "just  tell  me  who  you  are  and  what 
in  the  world  prompts  you  to  worship,  so  adorably, 
that  hideous  brute  over  there?" 

Between  fourteen  and  twenty  lies  a  chasm  of  age 
and  experience  that  ensures  patronage  to  one  and 
dependence  to  the  other.  Travers  felt  aged  and  pro- 
tecting, but  Priscilla  grew  impish  and  perverse; 
besides,  she  always  intuitively  shielded  her  real  self 
until  she  capitulated  entirely.  This  was  a  new  play, 
a  new  comrade,  but  she  must  be  cautious. 

"I  —  I  have  no  name  —  he  made  me!"  She 
nodded  toward  the  grinning  skull.  "On  bright 
sunny  afternoons  in  spring,  when  flowers  and  green 
things  are  beginning  to  live,  he  lets  me  dance,  once 
in  a  great  while,  so  that  I  can  keep  alive!" 


3o     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Priscilla,  with  this,  gave  such  a  beaming  and  mis- 
chievous smile  that  Travers  was  bewitched. 

"You "  But  he  did  not  put  his  thought  into 

words;  he  merely  gave  smile  for  smile,  and  asked: 

"Did  he  teach  you  to  dance?" 

"No.  The  dance  is  —  is  me!  That's  why  he 
likes  me.  He's  so  dead  that  he  likes  to  see  some- 
thing that  is  alive." 

"The  whole  world  would  adore  you  could  it  see 
you  as  I  just  have!" 

Then  Travers,  with  the  artist's  eye,  wondered  how 
dark  hair  could  possibly  hold  such  golden  tints,  and 
how  such  a  dark  face  could  make  lovely  the  blue, 
richly  lashed  eyes.  He  knew  she  must  be  from 
Lonely  Farm  —  Jerry-Jo  used  to  speak  of  her; 
lately  he  had  said  nothing,  to  be  sure,  but  this  cer- 
tainly must  be  the  child  who  had  once  cried  over  a 
book  of  his.  Poor,  little,  temperamental  beggar! 

"Come  up  and  deliver!"  Travers  gave  a  laugh. 
"I'm  Robin  Hood  and  I  want  you  to  explain  your- 
self. Why  do  you  bow  down  before  that  brazen  and 
evil-looking  brute?" 

Priscilla  hugged  her  knees  in  her  clasped  hands, 
and  said,  on  the  defence: 

"He's  the  only  god  that  answered  my  prayer. 
I  tried  father's  God  and  —  it  didn't  work!  Then  I 
fixed  up  this  one,  and  —  it  did!" 

"What  was  it  you  wanted?" 

"I  wanted  to  learn  things!    I  wanted  to  go  to 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     31 

school.  I  prayed  to  have  father's  heart  softened, 
but  it  stayed  —  rocky.  Then  I  began  to  worship 
this"  —  the  right  hand  waved  toward  the  bleached 
and  grinning  skull  —  "and  my  wish  came  true.  I 
told  the  schoolmaster.  Do  you  know  Mr.  Anton 
Farwell?" 

"I've  heard  of  him." 

"I  told  him  I  wanted  to  learn,  and  after  he  got 
through  laughing  he  said  he'd  been  sent  by  my  god 
to  teach  me  all  I  wanted  to  know;  but  of  course  he 
can't  do  that!" 

"Do  what?"  Travers  was  fascinated  by  the 
child's  naivety. 

"Teach  me  all  I  want  to  know.  Why,  I'm  going 
to  suffer  and  know  many  things!" 

"Good  Lord!"  ejaculated  Travers;  "you  won't 
mind  if  I  laugh?" 

"I  don't  think  there's  anything  to  laugh  at!" 
Priscilla  held  him  sternly.  "Have  you  ever  suf- 
fered?" 

The  laugh  died  from  Travers's  face. 

"Suffered!"  he  repeated.     "Yes!  yes!" 

"Well,  doesn't  it  pay  —  when  you  get  what  you 
want  and  know  things?" 

"Why,  see  here,  youngster  —  it  does!  You've 
managed  to  dig  out  of  your  life  quite  a  brilliant 
philosophy,  though  I  suppose  you  do  not  know  what 
that  is.  It's  holding  to  your  ideal,  the  thing  that 
seems  most  worth  while,  and  forcing  everything  else 


32     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

into  line  with  that.  Now,  you  see  I  had  a  bad 
handicap  —  a  clutch  on  me  that  made  me  a  weak, 
sickly  fellow,  but  through  it  all  I  kept  my  ideal." 

Priscilla  was  listening  bravely.  She  was  following 
this  thought  as  she  had  the  music;  something  in  her 
was  responding.  She  did  not  speak,  and  Traverswent 
on  talking,  more  to  himself  than  to  her. 

"Always  before  the  poor  thing  I  really  was,  walked 
the  fine  thing  I  would  be.  I  thought  myself  straight 
and  strong  and  clean.  Lord!  how  it  hurt  sometimes; 
but  I  grew,  after  a  time,  into  something  approaching 
the  ideal  going  on  before  me,  thinking  high  and  strong 
thoughts,  forgetting  the  meannesses  and  aches  —  do 
you  understand?" 

This  was  a  fairy  story  to  the  listener.  Rigid  and 
spellbound  she  replied: 

"Yes.  And  that's  what  I've  been  doing  —  and 
nobody  knew.  I've  just  been  working  hard  for 
that  me  of  me  that  I  always  see.  I  don't  care  what 
I  have  to  suffer,  but  -  "  the  throbbing  words  paused 
—  "I'm  going  to  know  what  —  it  is  all  about!" 

"It?"     Again  Travers  was  bewildered  and  bound. 

"Yes.  Life  and  me  and  what  we  mean.  I'm  not 
going  to  stay  here;  when  the  lure  of  the  States  gets 
me  I'm  —  going!" 

Things  were  getting  too  tense,  and  Travers  yielded 
to  a  nervous  impulse  to  laugh  again.  This  brought 
q  frown  to  Priscilla's  brow. 

"Forgive  me!"  he  pleaded.     "And  now  see  here, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     33 

little  pagan,  let  us  make  a  compact.  Let  us  keep 
our  ideals;  don't  let  anything  take  them  from  us. 
Is  it  a  go?" 

He  stretched  his  hand  out,  and  the  small,  brown 
one  lay  frankly  in  it. 

"And  we'll  come  here  and  —  and  worship  before 
that  fiend,  just  you  and  I?  And  we  won't  ever 
tell?" 

Priscilla  nodded. 

"And  now  will  you  dance  once  more,  just  once?" 

The  girl  bounded  from  the  rock,  and  before  the 
bow  struck  the  strings  she  was  poised  and  ready. 
Then  it  was  on  again,  that  strange,  wild  game.  The 
notes  rang  clear  and  true,  and  as  true  tripped  the 
twinkling  feet.  With  head  bent  and  eyes  riveted 
on  the  graceful  form,  Travers  urged  her  on  by  word 
and  laugh,  and  he  did  not  heed  a  shadow  which  fell 
across  the  sunlighted,  open  space,  until  Priscilla 
stopped  short,  and  a  deep  voice  trembling  with  emo- 
tion roared  one  word: 

"You!" 

There  stood  Nathaniel  Glenn,  his  face  twitching 
with  anger  and  something  akin  to  fear.  How  much 
he  had  heard  no  one  could  tell,  but  he  had  heard  and 
seen  enough  to  arouse  alarm  and  suspicion.  In 
his  hand  was  a  long  lash  whip,  and,  as  Priscilla  did 
not  move,  he  raised  it  aloft  and  sent  it  snapping 
around  the  rigid  figure. 

It  did  not  touch  her,  but  the  act  called  forth  all  the 


34     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

resentment  and  fierce  indignation  of  the  young  fellow 
who  looked  on. 

"Stop!"  he  shouted.  Then,  because  he  sought 
for  words  to  comfort  and  could  think  of  no  others, 
he  said  to  Priscilla,  "Don't  let  them  kill  your  ideal; 
hold  to  it  in  spite  of  everything!" 

"Yes,"  the  words  came  slowly,  defiantly,  "I'm  go- 
ing to!" 

"Go!"    Nathaniel  was  losing  control.     "Go- 
you!" 

Then,  as  if  waking  from  sleep,  the  girl  turned,  and 
with  no  backward  look,  went  her  way,  Nathaniel 
following. 

Travers,  exhausted  from  the  excitement,  stretched 
himself  once  more  upon  the  mossy  spot  from  which 
Priscilla  had  roused  him.  He  was  sensitive  to  every 
impression  and  quivering  in  every  nerve. 

What  he  had  witnessed  turned  him  ill  with  loath- 
ing and  contempt.  Brutality  in  any  form  was  hor- 
rible to  him,  and  the  thought  of  the  pretty,  spiritual 
child  under  the  control  of  the  coarse,  stern  man  was 
almost  more  than  he  could  bear.  Then  memory 
added  fuel  to  the  present.  It  was  that  man  who 
had  conjured  up  some  kind  of  opposition  to  his 
mother  —  had  made  living  problems  harder  for  her 
until  she  had  won  the  confidence  of  others.  The 
man  must  be,  Travers  concluded,  a  fanatic  and  an 
ignoramus,  and  to  think  of  him  holding  power  over 
that  sprite  of  the  woods! 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     35 

He  could  not  quite  see  how  he  might  help  the  girl, 
but,  lying  there,  her  dancing  image  flitting  before 
his  pitying  eyes,  he  meant  to  outwit  the  rough 
father  in  some  way,  and  bring  into  the  child's  life  a 
bit  of  brightness.  Then  he  smiled  and  his  easy 
good  nature  returned. 

"I'll  get  her  to  dance  for  me,  never  fear!  I'll 
teach  her  to  love  music,  and  I'll  tell  her  stories.  I 
must  get  her  to  explain  about  the  lure  of  the  States. 
What  on  earth  could  the  little  beggar  have  meant? 
It  sounded  as  if  she  thought  America  had  some  sinis- 
ter clutch  on  the  Dominion.  And  those  infernal- 
sounding  words ! " 

Travers  shook  with  laughter.  "That  ' doshy  was 
about  the  most  blasphemous  thing  I  ever  listened  to. 
In  a  short  space  of  time  that  child  managed  to  cram 
in  more  new  ideas,  words,  and  acts  than  any  one 
I've  ever  met  before.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she 
proves  a  character." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  day  of  warmth  and  song  and  dance 
changed  to  a  cool  evening.     There  was   a 
glowing  sunset  which  faded   into   a  clear, 
starry  night. 

Dick  Travers,  encased  in  a  heavy  sweater,  lin- 
gered, after  the  light  failed,  on  the  broad  piazza  fac- 
ing the  still  purpled  sky,  and  looked  out  toward  the 
Georgian  Bay,  which  was  hidden  from  sight  by  the 
ridge  of  hill  through  which  the  Fox  and  Secret 
Portages  cut.  The  mood  of  the  afternoon  had  fallen, 
as  had  the  day,  into  calmness  and  restfulness.  The 
fiddle,  which  was  never  far  from  Travers,  lay  now 
beside  him  on  the  deep  porch  swing,  and  every  few 
moments  he  took  it  up  and  began  an  air  that  broke 
off  almost  at  once,  either  to  run  into  another,  or 
into  silence. 

"Choppy,"  muttered  Doctor  Ledyard  as  he  sat 
across  the  hearth  from  his  hostess  and  looked  now 
at  her  fair,  tranquil  face  and  then  at  the  cheerful 
fire  of  hemlock  boughs. 

"He's  always  happiest  when  he's  —  choppy." 
Helen  Travers  smiled.  "I  wonder  why  I  take  your 
words  as  I  take  your  pills,  without  question?" 

36 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     37 

"You  know  what's  good  for  you." 

"And  so  you  really  think  there  is  no  doubt  about 
Dick?  He  can  enter  college  this  fall?" 

"As  sure  as  any  man  can  be.  He'll  always  be  a  tri- 
fle lame  probably,  though  that  will  be  less  noticeable 
when  he  learns  to  forget  the  cane  and  crutch  periods; 
as  for  his  health  —  it's  ripping,  for  him!" 

"How  wonderful  you  have  been;  what  a  miracle 
you  have  performed.  When  I  recall " 

"Don't,  Helen!  It's  poor  business  retracing  a 
hard  road  unless  you  go  back  to  pick  something 
up." 

"That's  why  —  I  must  go  back.  Doctor  Led- 
yard,  I  must  tell  you  something!  Now  that  Dick's 
semi-exile  and  mine  are  to  end  in  the  common  high- 
way, he  and  —  you  must  know  why  I  have  done 
many  things  —  will  you  listen?" 

From  under  Ledyard's  shaggy  brows  his  keen  eyes 
flashed.  There  had  been  a  time  when  he  had  hoped 
Helen  Travers  would  love  him;  he  had  loved  her 
since  her  husband's  death,  but  he  had  never  spoken, 
for  he  knew  intuitively  that  to  do  so  would  be  to 
risk  the  only  thing  of  which  he  was,  then,  sure  —  her 
trusting  friendship.  He  had  not  dared  put  that 
to  the  test  even  for  the  greater  hope.  That  was  why 
he  had  been  able  to  share  her  lonely  life  in  the  Cana- 
dian wilds  —  she  had  never  been  disturbed  by  a 
doubt  of  him.  And  this  comradeship,  safe  and  as- 
sured, was  the  one  luxury  he  permitted  himself  in  a 


38     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

world  where  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  hard,  an  almost 
cruel,  man. 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  tell  anything  in  order 
to  explain  your  actions  now,  or  ever.  I  am  con- 
fident that  under  all  circumstances  you  would  act 
wisely.  You  are  the  most  normal  woman  I  ever 
knew." 

"Thank  you.  But  I  still  must  speak  —  more  for 
Dick  than  for  you.  I  need  your  help  for  him." 

Outside,  the  fiddle  was  repeating  again  and  again  a 
nocturne  that  Helen  particularly  loved. 

"Dick  is  not  —  my  son!"  she  said  quickly  and 
softly  from  out  the  shadows.  She  was  rarely  abrupt, 
and  her  words  startled  Ledyard  into  alertness.  He 
got  up  and  drew  his  chair  close  to  hers. 

"What  did  you  say?"  he  whispered,  keeping  his 
eyes  upon  her  lowered  face. 

"I  said  —  Dick  is  not  my  son." 

"And  —  whose  is  he  —  may  I  ask ? " 

There  was  a  tenseness  in  the  question.  Now  that 
he  saw  the  gravity  of  the  confession  Ledyard  wished 
beyond  all  else  to  cut  quick  and  deep  and  then  bind 
up  the  wound. 

"He  is  the  child  of —  my  husband,  and  —  another 
woman." 

In  the  hush  that  followed,  Dick's  fiddle,  running 
now  through  a  delicious  strain  of  melody,  seemed 
like  a  current  bearing  them  on. 

"Perhaps  you  had   better  —  tell  me,"  Ledyard 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     39 

was  saying,  and  his  words  blended  strangely  with 
the  tune.  "Yes,  I  am  sure  you  ought  to  tell  me." 

Helen  Travers,  sitting  in  her  low  wicker  chair, 
did  not  move.  Her  delicate  face  was  resting  on  the 
tips  of  her  clasped  hands,  and  her  long,  loose,  white 
gown  seemed  to  gather  and  hold  the  red  glow  of  the 
fire. 

"I  suppose  I  have  done  Dick  a  bitter  wrong,  but 
at  first,  you  know,  even  you  thought  he  could  not  live 
and  so  it  would  not  have  mattered,  and  then  I  —  I 
learned  to  love  the  helpless  little  chap  as  women  of 
my  sort  do  who  have  to  make  their  own  lives  as  best 
they  may.  He  clung  to  me  so  desperately,  and,  you 
see,  as  he  grew  older  I  either  had  to  accept  his  belief 
in  me  or  —  or  —  take  his  father  from  him.  They 
were  such  close  friends,  Dick's  father  and  he!  And 
now  —  I  must  lay  everything  low,  and  I  am  wonder- 
ing what  will  come  of  it  all.  He  is  such  a  strange 
fellow;  our  life  apart  has  left  him  —  well,  so  different! 
How  will  he  take  it?" 

Whatever  her  own  personal  sorrow  was,  Helen 
Travers  made  no  moan,  exacted  no  sympathy.  She 
had  come  alone  to  the  parting  of  the  ways,  and  she 
had  thought  only  for  the  boy  whom  she  had  moth- 
ered tenderly  and  successfully.  Ledyard  did  not 
interrupt  the  gentle  flow  of  her  thoughts.  There 
was  time;  he  would  not  startle  or  hurry  her,  although 
her  first  statement  had  shocked  and  surprised  him 
beyond  measure. 


40     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"I've  always  thought  of  myself  as  like  one  of  those 
poor  Asiatic  hornbills,"  she  was  saying.  "It  seems 
to  me  that  all  my  life  long  some  one  has  walled  me 
up  in  a  nice,  safe  nest  and  fed  me  through  my  long- 
ings and  desires.  I  cannot  get  to  life  first  hand. 
I'm  not  stupid  exactly,  but  I  am  terribly  limited." 
Helen  paused,  then  went  on  more  rapidly:  "First 
it  was  my  father.  He  and  I  travelled  after  mother's 
death  continually,  and  alone.  He  educated  me  and 
interpreted  life  for  me;  he  was  a  man  of  the  world,  I 
suppose,  but  he  managed  to  keep  me  most  unworldly 
wise.  Of  course  I  knew,  abstractly,  the  lights  and 
shadows;  but  I  wonder  if  you  will  believe  me  when  I 
tell  you  that,  until  after  my  marriage,  I  never  sus- 
pected that  —  that  certain  codes  of  honour  and  dis- 
honour had  place  in  the  lives  of  those  closest  to  me? 
The  evil  of  the  world  was  classified  and  pigeon-holed 
for  me.  I  even  had  ambition  to  get  out  of  my  walled- 
up  condition  and  help  some  mystical  people,  de- 
tached and  far  from  my  safe,  clean  corner.  Father 
left  me  more  money  than  was  good  for  any  young 
woman,  and  my  simple  impulse  was  to  use  it  prop- 
erly." 

"You  were  very  young?"     Ledyard  interrupted. 

Helen  Travers  shook  her  head. 

"Not  very.  I  was  twenty-four  when  I  married. 
I  had  never  had  but  one  intimate  friend  in  my  life, 
and  to  her  I  went  at  my  father's  death.  It  was  her 
brother  I  married  — John  Travers." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     41 

Ledyard  nodded  his  head;  he  knew  of  the  Trav- 
erses —  the  older  generation. 

"This  thing  concerning  Dick  occurred  some  three 
or  four  years  before  my  marriage.  My  wedding  was 
a  very  quiet  one;  it  was  not  reported,  and  that  ac- 
counted for  Dick's  mother  —  Elizabeth  Thornton  — 
not  knowing  of  it. 

"It  seems  that  there  had  been  an  alliance  between 
John  Travers  and  —  and  Dick's  mother,  and  it  had 
been  terminated  some  time  before  he  met  me, 
by  mutual  consent.  There  was  the  child  —  Dick. 
The  mother  took  him.  There  was  no  question  of 
money:  there  was  enough  for  them,  but  she  had  told 
John  that  should  anything  arise,  such  as  illness  or 
disaster,  she  would  call  upon  him.  They  had  sworn 
that  to  each  other. 

"Well,  my  own  baby  came  a  year  after  my  mar- 
riage and  died  a  month  later.  When  I  was  least  able 
to  bear  the  shock,  the  call  came  from  Elizabeth  Thorn- 
ton. John  had  to  tell  me.  I  shall  never  forget  his 
face  as  he  did  it.  I  realized  that  his  chief  concern 
was  for  me,  and  even  in  all  the  wreck  and  ruin  I 
could  but  honour  him  for  his  bravery  and  sincerity. 
I  think  he  believed  I  would  understand,  but  I  never 
did;  I  never  shall.  The  shock  was  more  surprise  than 
moral  resentment.  I  could  not  believe  at  first  that 
such  a  thing  could  possibly  happen  to  — one  of  my  own. 
I  felt  as  if  a  plague  had  fallen  upon  me,  and  I  shrank 
from  every  eye,  from  every  touch  with  the  world. 


42     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Doctor  Ledyard,  you  can  understand,  I  hope, 
but  John  Travers  was  not  a  bad  man,  and  that  girl, 
Dick's  mother,  was  good.  Yes;  that's  the  only 
word  to  use,  strange  as  it  seems  to  me  even  after  all 
these  years.  You  see,  she  was  not  a  hornbill.  She 
came  in  touch  with  life  at  first  hand;  she  took  from 
life  what  she  wanted;  she  had,  what  were  to  me, 
unheard-of  ideas  about  love  and  the  free  gift  of 
self,  and  yet  she  never  meant  to  hurt  any  one;  and 
she  had  kept  herself,  amid  all  the  confusion,  the 
gentlest  and  sweetest  of  souls. 

"When  she  sent  for  John  she  was  dying  and  she 
did  not  know  what  to  do  about  the  boy.  She  had  no 
family  —  no  near  friend. 

"I  went  with  my  husband  to  see  her.  There  did 
not  seem  to  be  anything  else  to  do.  I  had  no  feeling; 
it  was  plain  duty.  Even  with  the  touch  of  death 
upon  her,  Elizabeth  Thornton  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful woman  I  have  ever  seen.  I  cannot  describe  the 
sensation  she  made  upon  me;  but  she  was  like  an  in- 
nocent, pure  child  who  had  played  with  harmful 
and  soiled  toys  but  had  come  wearily  to  the  day's 
end,  herself  unsullied. 

"When  she  knew  about  me  she  was  broken- 
hearted. She  wept  and  called  to  little  Dick,  who 
sat  in  a  small  chair  by  her  couch: 

"'Oh!  little  son,  we  could  have  managed,  couldn't 
we?  We  would  not  have  hurt  any  one  for  the  world, 
would  we,  sonny?'  And  the  boy  got  up  and  soothed 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     43 

her  as  a  man  might  have  done,  and  he  was  only  a 
little  creature.  I  think  I  loved  him  from  the  mo- 
ment I  saw  him  shielding  that  poor,  dying  mother 
from  her  own  folly.  'Course,  mummy,  course!'  he 
repeated  over  and  again.  Then  he  looked  at  me 
with  the  eyes  of  my  own  dead  baby.  Both  children 
were  startlingly  like  the  father.  The  look  pleaded 
for  mercy  from  me  to  them  —  John,  the  mother,  and 
the  little  fellow  himself.  And  I,  who  had  vaguely 
meant  to  help  the  world  some  day,  began  —  with 
them!  Just  for  a  little  time  after  Elizabeth  Thorn- 
ton's death  I  became  human,  or  perhaps  inhuman.  I 
resented  the  wrong  that  had  been  done  me;  I  wanted 
to  fling  John  and  the  child  away  from  me;  but  then  a 
sense  of  power  rallied  me.  I  had  never  tasted  it 
before.  I  could  cast  the  helpless  pair  from  me,  or 
—  I  could  save  them  from  the  world  and  the  world's 
hideous  pity  for  me.  I  accepted  the  burden  laid  upon 
me.  I  think  John  thought  I  would  forget,  would  for- 
give. I  cannot  explain  —  my  sort  of  woman  is 
never  understood  by  —  well,  John's  sort  of  man. 
I  am  afraid  he  grew  to  have  a  contempt  for  me,  but  I 
lived  on  loving  them  both,  but  never  becoming  able 
to  meet  John's  hope  of  me.  I  knew  he  was  often 
lonely  —  I  have  pitied  him  since  —  but  I  could  not 
help  being  what  I  was. 

"I  tried,  but  it  was  no  use.  We  lived  abroad 
for  years,  and  little  Dick  forgot  —  I  am  sure 
he  forgot  —  his  mother,  and  when  I  felt  secure 


44     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

I  gave  him  all,  all  the  passion  and  devotion  of 
my  life. 

"John  died  abroad;  I  came  home  with  my  crippled 
boy;  came  home  to  —  you.  That  is  all!" 

Ledyard  bent  and  laid  a  handful  of  boughs  upon 
the  fire.  The  room  was  cold  and  cheerless,  and  the 
still,  white  figure  in  the  chair  seemed  the  quiet, 
chill  heart  of  it  all.  And  yet  —  how  she  had  loved 
and  laboured  for  the  boy!  Was  she  passionless  or 
had  her  passion  been  killed  while  at  white  heat? 

"And  —  and  I  suppose  Dick  must  know?" 

"Yes.     Dick  must  know." 

There  was  no  sternness,  but  there  was  determi- 
nation in  the  strong,  even  voice.  Then: 

"Helen,  let  me  do  this  for  you!" 

For  a  moment  the  uplifted  eyes  faltered  and  fell 
away  from  the  man's  face.  Very  faintly  the  words 
came: 

"God  bless  you!  I  could  not  bear  to  see  —  him 
fail  me.  If  he  must  —  fail,  I  cannot  see  him  until  — 
afterward." 

The  blaze  rose  higher,  and  the  dark  room  was  a 
background  for  that  deathlike  form  before  the  hearth. 

Ledyard  left  the  room  silently,  and  a  moment 
later  Helen  Travers  heard  his  heavy  footfall  on  the 
porch  outside.  Presently  the  erratic  violin  playing 
ceased  and  there  seemed  no  sound  on  the  face  of  the 
earth. 

After  what  seemed  hours,  Pine,  the  guide,  en- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     45 

tered  the  room  to  replenish  the  fire,  and  Helen  told 
him  he  need  not  light  the  lamps.  After  his  going  an- 
other aching  silence  followed  through  which,  at  last, 
stole  the  consciousness  that  she  was  not  alone. 
Some  one  had  come  into  the  room  from  a  long 
window  opening  on  the  piazza.  Helen  dared  not 
look,  for  if  it  were  Ledyard  she  would  know  that 
things  were  very  bad  indeed.  Then  came  the  slightly 
dragging  step  that  she  had  learned  to  be  so  grate- 
ful for  after  the  helplessness  of  crippled  childhood. 
Still  she  did  not  move,  nor  deeply  hope.  The  boy 
was  kind,  oh!  so  tenderly  kind,  he  might  only  have 
come  because  he  must! 

The  red  glow  of  the  fire  made  the  woman's  form 
by  the  hearth  vividly  distinct,  and  toward  that  Dick 
Travers  went  as  if  led  by  a  gleam  through  a  new  and 
strange  experience.  He  knelt  by  her  side  and,  for  a 
moment,  buried  his  face  against  her  clasped  hands; 
then  he  looked  up  and  she  saw  only  intensified  love 
and  trust  upon  his  young  face.  She  waited  for  him 
to  speak,  her  heart  was  choking  her. 

"You  thought,  dear,  that  I  did  not  know  —  that  I 
had  forgotten?  I  wonder  if  any  lonely,  burdened 
little  chap  could  forget  —  what  came  before  you 
lifted  the  load  and  taught  me  to  be  a  —  child  ?  Oh ! 
she  was  so  sweet;  such  a  playfellow.  I  realize  it  now 
even  though  she  has  faded  into  something  like  a 
shadowy  dream.  But  I  recall,  too,  the  loneliness; 
the  fear  that  she  might  leave  me  alone  with  no  one  to 


46     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

care  for  me.  I  can  remember  her  fear,  too;  always 
the  fear  that  one  of  us  might  leave  the  other  alone. 
The  recollection  will  always  stand  out  in  my  mem- 
ory. I  shall  never  forget  her  nor  her  sweetness. 
Afterward  you  came  and  my  father.  Only  lately 
have  I  understood  all  of  —  that  part  of  my  life  and 
yours  —  but  I  knew  he  was  my  father,  and  I  won- 
dered about  you,  because  I  could  not  forget  —  my 
mother! 

"I  learned  to  love  you  out  of  my  great  need  and 
out  of  yours,  too,  I  realize  now,  and  slowly,  far  too 
early,  I  saw  that  the  happiest  thing  I  could  do  for 
you,  who  had  given  me  so  much,  was  to  seem  to  for- 
get and  rest  only  on  one  thought  —  you  were  my 
mother!  Can  I  make  you  understand,  mother,  what 
you  are  in  my  life  —  to-night  ? " 

He  kissed  the  cold  hands  clutching  his  hot  ones, 
and  with  that  touch  the  barrier  broke  down  forever 
between  them.  Travers  took  her  in  his  arms,  but 
she  did  not  burden  his  young  strength  as  the  earlier 
mother  had  done.  Even  in  her  abandon,  they  sup- 
ported each  other  bravely. 

The  days  that  followed  were  busy  ones.  Dick's 
tutor  came  from  New  York,  plans  were  laid,  and 
there  was  small  opportunity,  just  then,  for  the  red- 
rock  shrine. 

"You  see,"  Dick  said  to  Ledyard  one  afternoon, 
"I've  never  voiced  it  before  —  it  seemed  presump- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     47 

tuous  —  but  now  that  I'm  going  to  have  the  life  of  a 
fellow,  I  can  choose  a  fellow's  career.  I  want,  more 
than  anything  else,  to  be  a  physician." 

Ledyard's  eyes  flashed,  but  he  lowered  his  lids. 

"It's  a  devil  of  a  life,  boy." 

"  I  think  it's  the  finest  of  all." 

"No  hours  you  can  call  your  own;  never  daring 
to  ask  for  the  common  things  a  man  cares  for.  You 
see,  women  are  mostly  too  jealous  and  small  to 
understand  a  doctor's  demands.  They  usually  raise 
hell  sooner  or  later.  I  had  a  friend  whose  wife  used 
to  look  through  the  keyhole  of  his  consulting-room 
door.  A  patient  tripped  over  her  once  and  it 
nearly  cost  my  friend  his  practice.  Doctors  are  only 
half  human  anyway,  and  women  can't  go  halves 
with  their  husbands." 

Dick  laughed. 

"Between  a  wife  and  a  profession,"  he  said,  "give 
me  the  profession." 

"Besides,"  Ledyard  went  on;  "you  get  toughened 
and  brutal;  most  of  us  drink,  when  we  don't  do 
something  worse." 

"You  don't." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"I  do  know,  and  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't  let  any 
one  else  say  that  about  your  associates;  they're  the 
noblest  ever  and  you  know  it!" 

"Well,  we're  bound  and  gagged,  and  that's  a  fact. 
We're  not  given  much  leeway.  We  are  led  up  to  a 


48     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

case  and  forced  to  carry  out  the  rules.  While  we're 
doctors  we  can't  be  men." 

Dick  recalled  that  years  later  with  a  bitter  sense 
of  its  truth! 

"All  the  same,  if  the  profession  will  have  me,  I'll 
have  it  and  thank  God.  When  I  think  of  —  well, 
of  the  little  cuss  I  was,  and  of  you  —  why,  I  tell  you, 
I  cannot  get  too  soon  into  harness.  I'd  like  to  spec- 
ialize, too.  I've  even  gone  so  far  as  that." 

"Good  Lord!     In  what?" 

"Oh,  women  and  children,  principally  —  putting 
them  straight  and  strong,  you  know." 

"Umph,"  grunted  Ledyard.  "Well,  at  the  first 
you'll  probably  be  thankful  to  get  any  old  case  that 
needs  tinkering." 

Dick  Travers  did  not  see  Priscilla  again  that  sum- 
mer. After  a  while  he  went  to  the  rocks,  and  once 
he  laid  sacrilegious  hands  on  the  strange  god  with  a 
longing  to  smash  the  hideous  skull,  but  in  the  end 
he  left  it  and,  after  a  time,  forgot  the  girl  he  had 
played  for,  even  forgot  the  fantastic  dance,  for  his 
thoughts  were  of  sterner  stuff. 

There  were  guests  at  the  Hill  Place,  too,  for  the 
first  time  that  year,  and  some  entertainment.  There 
were  fishing,  and  in  due  season,  hunting,  at  which 
Ledyard  excelled,  and  the  family  returned  to  the 
States  earlier  than  usual,  owing  to  Dick's  affairs. 


CHAPTER  IV 

NATHANIEL  GLENN  had  said  some  terrible 
things  in  Priscilla's  presence  the  evening  of 
the  day  when  he  drove  her  before  him  while 
Richard  Travers  implored  her  to  hold  to  her  ideal. 
Fortunately,  youth  spared  Priscilla  from  a  full  under- 
standing of  her  father's  words,  but  she  caught  the 
drift  of  his  thought.  She  was  convinced  that  he 
feared  greatly  for  her  here  on  earth,  and  had  grave 
doubts  as  to  her  soul's  ultimate  salvation.  There 
was  that  within  her,  so  he  explained,  which,  unless 
curbed  and  corrected,  would  cast  her  into  eternal 
damnation!  Those  were  Nathaniel's  words. 

"She  looked  a  very  devil  as  she  danced  and  smirked 
at  that  strange  fellow,"  so  had  Glenn  described 
the  scene;  "a  man  she  says  she  had  never  laid  eyes 
on  before!  A  daughter  of  Satan  she  seemed,  with 
all  the  witchcraft  of  her  sort."  To  Nathaniel,  that 
which  he  could  not  understand,  was  wrong. 

Theodora  spoke  not  a  word.  Certain  facts  from 
all  the  evidence  stood  forth  and  alarmed  her  as 
deeply  —  though  not  as  bitterly  —  as  they  did  her 
husband.  There  certainly  was  a  daring  and  braz- 
enness  in  a  young  girl  carrying  on  so  before  a  total 

49 


50     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

stranger.  In  all  the  conversation  the  name  of  the 
stranger  was  not  mentioned,  and  oddly  enough  Pris- 
cilla  did  not  even  then  connect  her  friend  of  the 
music  and  laughter  with  the  boy  of  the  Hill  Place. 
How  could  she,  when  Jerry-Jo's  description  still 
stood  unchallenged  in  her  mind?  Indeed,  the 
stranger  did  not  seem  wholly  of  the  earth,  earthy. 
She  had  accepted  him  as  another  phase  evolved  by 
the  mysterious  rite  —  a  new  revelation  of  the  strange 
god. 

From  all  the  torrent  of  misinterpretation  Nathaniel 
gave  vent  to,  one  startling  impression  remained 
in  Priscilla's  mind.  Sitting  in  the  bare,  unlovely 
kitchen  of  the  farmhouse,  with  her  troubled  parents 
confronting  her,  a  great  wave  of  realization  over- 
powered the  girl.  She  could  never  make  them 
understand!  There  was  no  need  to  try.  She  did 
not  really  belong  to  them,  or  they  to  her,  and  she 
must  —  get  away! 

That  was  it,  of  course.  The  lure  had  caught  her. 
They  all  felt  as  she  was  now  feeling  —  the  Hornbys, 
all  the  boys  and  men  who  left  Kenmore.  Something 
always  drove  them  to  see  they  must  go,  and  that 
was  what  the  lure  meant. 

Priscilla  laughed. 

As  usual,  this  angered  Nathaniel  beyond  control. 

"You  —  laugh  —  you!     Why  do  you  laugh ?" 

Priscilla  leaned  back  in  her  hard  wooden  chair. 

"The  lure's  got  me!"  she  panted. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     51 

"The -lure?" 

"Yes.  It  means  getting  away.  You  have  to  fol- 
low the  lure  and  find  your  true  place.  Some  people 
are  put  in  the  wrong  place  —  then  the  lure  gets 
them!" 

At  this  Theodora  gave  a  moan  of  understanding. 
They  had  driven  the  child  too  far,  been  too  hard  upon 
her,  and  the  impulse  to  fly  from  the  love  that  was 
seeking  to  hold  her  was  the  one  thing  to  be  avoided. 

"I'm  tired  of  things.  Once  I  wanted  to  go  to 
school,  but  you  wouldn't  let  me."  The  blazing 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  Nathaniel.  "You're  always 
trying  to  —  to  hold  me  back  from  —  from  —  my 
life!  I  want  to  go  away  somewhere!  I  want"  — 
a  half-sob  shook  the  fierce,  young  voice  -  "I  want 
to  be  part  of —  things,  and  you  —  you  won't  let  me! 
I  hate  this  —  this  place;  I'm  choking  to  death!" 

And  with  this  Priscilla  got  up  and  flung  her  arms 
over  her  head,  while  she  ejaculated  fiercely:  "I  want 
to  be  —  doshed!" 

The  effect  of  this  outburst  upon  the  two  listeners 
was  tremendous.  Theodora  recognized  with  blind- 
ing terror  that  her  daughter  was  no  longer  a  child! 
The  knowledge  was  like  a  stroke  that  left  her  para- 
lyzed. What  could  she  hope  to  do  with,  and  for,  this 
new,  strange  creature  in  whose  young  face  rising 
passion  and  rebellion  were  suddenly  born  ?  Nathan- 
iel was  awed,  too,  but  he  managed  to  utter  the  com- 
mand: "Leave  the  room,  hussy!" 


52     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

When  the  parents  were  alone  they  took  stock  of 
the  responsibility  that  was  laid  upon  them.  Help- 
lessly Theodora  began  to  cry.  She  could  no  more 
cope  with  this  situation  than  a  baby.  She  had  never 
risen  above  or  beyond  the  dead  level  of  Kenmore 
life,  and  surely  no  Kenmore  woman  had  ever  borne 
so  unnatural  a  child.  She  feared  hopelessly  and  trem- 
blingly. 

With  Nathaniel  it  was  different.  He  was  a  hard 
man  who  had  forced  himself,  as  he  had  others,  along 
the  one  grim  path,  but  he  had  the  male's  inheritance 
of  understanding  of  certain  traits  and  emotions. 
Had  any  one  suggested  to  him  that  his  girl  had  de- 
rived from  him  —  not  her  colourless  mother  —  the 
desire  for  excitement  through  the  senses,  he  would 
have  flung  the  thought  madly  from  him.  Men  were 
men;  women  were  women!  Even  if  temptation 
came  to  a  girl,  only  a  bad,  an  evil-natured  girl  would 
recognize  it  and  succumb.  His  daughter,  Nathaniel 
firmly  believed,  was  marked  for  destruction,  and  he 
was  frightened  and  aroused  not  only  for  Priscilla 
herself  but  for  his  reputation  and  position.  He  had 
known  similar  temptation;  had  overcome  it.  He 
understood,  or  thought  he  did! 

He  gave  the  girl  no  benefit  of  doubt;  his  mind 
conceived  things  that  never  had  occurred.  He  be- 
lieved she  had  often  met  the  young  fellow  from  the 
Hill  Place.  God  alone  knew  what  had  gone  before! 

"What  shall  we  do?"  sobbed  Theodora.     "We 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     53 

Cannot  make  a  prisoner  of  her;  we  cannot  watch 
her  every  move  —  and  she's  only  a  bit  over  four- 
teen!" 

Had  the  girl  died  that  night  Nathaniel  would  not 
have  mourned  her,  he  would  have  known  only  relief 
and  gratitude. 

"She  was  unwelcomed,"  he  muttered  to  his  weep- 
ing wife;  "and  she  has  become  a  curse  to  us.  It  lies 
with  us  to  turn  the  punishment  into  our  souls'  good; 
but  what  can  we  do  for  her?" 

Priscilla  did  not  die  that  night.  She  slept  peace- 
fully and  happily  with  the  red,  pulsing  planet  over 
the  hemlock  shining  faithfully  upon  her.  The  next 
day  she  reappeared  before  her  parents  with  a  cloud- 
less face  and  a  willingness  to  make  such  amends  as 
could  be  brought  about  without  too  much  self- 
abnegation.  In  the  broad  light  of  day  the  mother 
could  not  hold  to  the  horrors  of  the  evening  before. 
She  had  been  nervous  and  overwrought;  it  wasn't 
so  bad  as  they  had  thought! 

"I  want  you  to  go  erranding,"  she  said  to  Pris- 
cilla soon  after  the  midday  meal  and  by  way  of 
propitiation.  "It's  one  by  the  clock  now.  Given 
an  hour  to  go,  another  to  return,  and  a  half  hour  for 
the  buying,  you  should  be  back  by  four  at  the  latest." 

Priscilla  looked  laughingly  up  at  her  mother, 
"Funny,  little  mother,"  she  said;  "he's  made  you 
afraid  of  me.  Hadn't  you  better  tie  a  string  to  my 
foot?"  But  all  the  time  the  girl  was  thinking. 


54     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"An  hour  for  both  going  and  coming  will  be  enough, 
and  that  will  leave  an  hour  for  the  schoolmaster." 

Aloud  she  said:  "I  was  fiercely  angry  last  night, 
mother,  for  he  read  me  wrong  and  would  not  believe 
me,  but  it  made  me  feel  the  lure;  it  really  did." 

"You  must  never  speak  so  again,  child,"  Theodora 
replied,  thinking  she  was  impressing  the  girl;  "and, 
Priscilla,  what  did  you  mean  by  saying  you  wanted 
to  be  —  be  doshed?  That  was  the  most  unsancti- 
fied  word  I  ever  heard.  What  does  it  mean  ?  Where 
did  you  learn  it?" 

At  this  Priscilla  doubled  over  with  laughter  but 
managed  to  say: 

"Why,  it  means  just  —  doshed!  Haven't  you 
ever  wanted  to  be  doshed,  mother,  when  you  were 
young,  and  before  father  took  the  dosh  out  of 
you?" 

Theodora  was  again  overcome  by  former  fears, 
and  to  confirm  her  terror  Priscilla  sprang  toward 
her  with  outstretched,  gripping  fingers  and  wide, 
eager  eyes. 

"It  means,"  she  breathed,  advancing  upon  her 
mother's  retreating  form,  "it  means  skib,  skib,  skib- 
ble  — de  — de  — dosh!" 

At  this  she  had  her  mother  by  the  shoulders  and 
was  seeking  to  kiss  the  affrighted  and  appalled  face. 

Theodora  escaped  her,  and  realized  that  a  change- 
ling had  indeed  entered  her  home.  An  unknown 
element  was  here.  It  was  as  if,  having  been  dis- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     55 

covered,  Priscilla  felt  she  no  longer  needed  to  hide 
her  inner  self,  but  was  giving  it  full  sway. 

If  they  could  only  have  known  that  the  spring  of 
imagination  and  joy  had  been  touched  in  the  girl 
and  merely  the  madness  of  youth  and  the  legitimate 
yearning  for  expression  moved  her!  But  Theodora 
did  not  understand  and  she  tried  to  be  stern. 

"You  are  to  be  back  in  this  house  at  four!'*  she 
cried;  "at  quarter  after  at  the  latest." 

So  Priscilla  started  forth.  The  mother  watched 
her  from  the  doorway.  Suspicion  was  in  her  heart; 
she  feared  the  girl  would  turn  toward  the  woods;  she 
was  prepared  for  that,  but  instead,  the  flying  figure 
made  for  the  grassy  road  leading  to  Kenmore  and 
was  soon  lost  to  sight. 

Three  miles  of  level  road,  much  of  it  smooth,  moss- 
covered  rock,  was  easy  travelling  for  nimble  feet 
and  a  glad  heart.  And  Priscilla  was  the  gladdest 
creature  afield  that  day.  Impishly  she  was  enjoying 
the  sensation  she  had  created.  It  appealed  to  her 
dramatic  sense  and  animal  enjoyment.  In  some 
subtle  fashion  she  realized  she  had  balked  and  de- 
feated her  father  —  she  was  rather  sorry  about  her 
mother  —  but  that  could  be  remedied  later  on. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  she  had  the  whip  hand  of 
Nathaniel  at  last,  and  the  subconscious  attitude  of 
defiance  she  always  held  toward  her  father  was 
strengthened  by  the  knowledge  that  he  was  unjustly 
judging  her. 


56     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

There  were  many  things  of  interest  in  Kenmore 
that  only  limited  time  prevented  Priscilla  from 
investigating.  She  longed  to  go  to  the  jail  and 
see  if  the  people  had  prevailed  upon  old  Jerry 
McAlpin  to  discharge  himself.  She  admired  Jerry's 
spirit! 

She  wanted  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Hornby  and  question 
her  about  Jamsie,  her  last  boy,  who  had  succumbed 
to  the  lure  of  the  States.  She  longed  to  know  the 
symptoms  of  one  attacked  by  the  lure.  Then  there 
was  the  White  Fish  Lodge  —  she  did  so  want  to 
visit  Mrs.  McAdam.  The  annual  menace  of  taking 
Mrs.  McAdams'  license  from  her  was  man's  talk 
just  then,  and  Mrs.  McAdam  was  so  splendid  when 
her  rights  were  threatened.  On  the  village  Green 
she  annually  defended  her  position  like  a  born  orator. 
Priscilla  had  heard  her  once  and  had  never  got  over 
her  admiration  for  the  little,  thin  woman  who  rallied 
the  men  to  her  support  with  frantic  threats  as  to  her 
handling  of  their  rights  unless  they  helped  her  fight 
her  battle  against  a  government  bent  upon  taking 
the  living  from  a  "God-be-praised  widow-woman 
with  two  sons  to  support." 

It  had  all  been  so  exactly  to  Priscilla's  dramatic 
taste  that  she  with  difficulty  restrained  herself  from 
calling  at  the  White  Fish. 

There  was  a  good  hour  to  her  credit  when  the 
erranding  was  finished  and  the  time  needed  for  the 
home  run  set  aside,  so  to  the  little  cabin,  built  beside 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     57 

the  schoolhouse,  she  went  with  heavily  loaded  arms 
and  an  astonishingly  light  heart. 

Since  the  day  when  Anton  Farwell  had  undertaken 
Priscilla's  enlightenment,  asserting  that  he  had  been 
ordained  to  do  so  by  her  god,  he  had  had  an  almost 
supernatural  influence  upon  her  thought.  For  her, 
he  was  endowed  with  mystery,  and,  with  the  subtle 
poetry  of  the  lonely  young,  she  deafened  her  ears 
to  any  normal  explanation  of  the  man. 

Reaching  the  cabin,  she  pushed  gently  against  the 
door,  knowing  that  if  it  opened,  Kenmore  was  free 
to  enter.  Farwell  was  in  and,  when  Priscilla  stood 
near  him,  seemed  to  travel  back  from  a  far  place  be- 
fore he  saw  her.  Farwell  was  an  old-young  man;  he 
cultivated  the  appearance  of  age,  but  only  the  very 
youthful  were  deceived.  His  long,  dark  hair  fell  about 
his  thin  face  lankly,  and  it  was  an  easy  matter,  by 
dropping  his  head,  to  hide  his  features  completely. 

He  was  tall  and,  from  much  stooping  over  books 
or  the  work  of  his  garden,  was  round-shouldered. 
When  he  looked  you  fully  in  the  face,  which  he  rarely 
did,  it  was  noticed  that  his  eyes  were  at  once  child- 
ishly friendly  and  deathly  sad. 

The  older  people  of  Kenmore  had  ceased  to  wonder 
about  him.  Having  accepted  him,  they  let  matters 
drop.  To  the  children,  to  all  helpless  animals,  he 
was  an  enduring  solace  and  power.  When  all  else 
failed  they  looked  to  him  for  solution.  For  this  had 
Priscilla  come. 


58     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"To  be  sure!"  cried  Farwell  at  length.  "It's 
Priscilla  Glenn.  Bad  child!  It's  many  a  day  since 
we  had  a  lesson.  There!  there!  no  excuses.  Sit 
down  and  —  own  up!" 

While  he  was  speaking  Farwell  replenished  the 
wood  on  the  fire  and  brushed  the  ashes  from  the 
hearth.  Priscilla,  in  a  chair,  sat  upright  and  rather 
breathlessly  wondered  how  she  could  manage  all  she 
wanted  to  say  and  hear  in  the  small  space  of  time 
that  was  hers. 

Anton's  back  was  toward  her  when  she  uttered 
her  first  question  and  the  words  brought  him  to  an 
upright  position,  facing  her  at  once. 

"Mr.  Farwell,  where  did  you  come  from  —  I  mean 
before  the  wreck  ? " 

For  a  moment  the  master  looked  as  if  about  to 
spring  forward  to  lock  the  door  and  bar  the  windows. 
Real  alarm  was  in  his  eyes. 

"Who  told  you  to  ask  that?"  he  whispered. 

"No  one.  No  one  has  to  tell  me  questions;  I  have 
more  of  my  own  than  I  can  ask.  I  never  thought  be- 
fore about  you,  Mr.  Farwell,  we're  so  used  to  you, 
but  now  it's  because  of  me.  I  want  to  know.  Some- 
body has  got  to  help  me  —  I  feel  it  coming  again." 

"Feel  what  coming?"  Farwell  sat  limply  down  in 
the  chair  he  had  lately  occupied. 

"Why,  the  lure.  It  comes  to  the  boys,  Mr.  Far- 
well.  They  just  get  it  and  go  off  to  the  States,  and 
it's  come  to  me  I  I've  always  known  it  would.  You 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS      59 

see,  I've  got  to  go  away;  not  just  now,  but  some 
time.  I'm  going  out  through  the  Secret  Portage. 
I'm  going  away,  away  to  find  my  real  place.  I'm 
going  to  do  something  —  out  where  the  States  are.  I 
hoped  you  came  from  there;  could  tell  me  —  how  to 
go  about  it.  Do  you  know,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been 
dropped  in  Kenmore  just  to  rest  before  I  went 
on!" 

Farwell  looked  at  the  girl  and  something  new  and 
changed  about  her  startled  him  as  it  had  her  parents, 
but,  being  wiser,  he  felt  no  antagonism.  It  was  an 
amazing,  an  interesting  thing.  The  girl  had  suddenly 
developed:  that  was  all.  She  was  eager  to  try  her 
wings  at  a  longer  flight  than  any  of  her  sex  in  Ken- 
more  had  ever  before  dreamed.  It  was  amusing  even 
if  it  were  serious. 

Years  before,  Farwell  had  discovered  the  girl's 
keen  mind  and  her  quaint  originality.  As  much  for 
his  own  pleasure  as  her  advantage  he  had  taught 
her  as  he  had  some  of  the  other  village  children, 
erratically,  inconsequently,  and  here  she  was  now 
demanding  that  he  fit  her  out  with  a  chart  for  deep- 
sea  sailing. 

How  could  he  permit  her  to  harbour,  even  for  an 
idle  moment,  the  idea  of  leaving  her  shelter  and  going 
away?  At  this  the  thin,  dark  face  grew  rigid  and 
stern.  But  too  well  the  man  knew  the  folly  of  set- 
ting up  active  opposition  to  any  young  thing  strain* 
ing  against  the  door  of  a  cage.  Better  open  the 


6o     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

door  even  if  a  string  on  the  leg  or  a  clipped  wing  had 
to  be  resorted  to! 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  States?"  The  tense  voice 
was  imploring. 

"Oh,  yes.     Why  do  you  wish  to  go  there?" 

"Why  do  the  boys?" 

This  was  baffling. 

"Well,  there  was  Mrs.  Hornby's  oldest  boy,  he 
went  to  the  States,  got  the  worst  of  it,  and  came  home 
to  die.  He  did  not  find  them  happy  places." 

"Yes,  but  all  the  other  Hornbys  went  just  the 
same,  even  Jamsie.  It's  the  chance,  you  know,  the 
chance  to  try  what's  in  you,  even  if  you  do  come 
home  and  die!  You  never  have  a  chance  in  Ken- 
more;  and  I  don't  mean  to  be  like  my  mother  — 
like  the  other  women.  You  see,  Mr.  Farwell,  I'm 
willing  to  suffer,  but  I  am  going  to  know  all  I  want 
to,  and  I  am  going  to  find  a  place  where  I  fit  in,  if 
I  can." 

So  small  and  ignorant  did  the  girl  look,  yet  so 
determined  and  keen,  that  Farwell  grew  anxious. 
Evidently  Nathaniel  had  borne  too  hard  upon  her, 
borne  to  the  snapping  point,  and  she  had,  in  her 
wild  fashion,  caught  the  infection  of  the  last  going 
away  —  Jamsie  Hornby's.  It  was  laughable,  but 
pathetic. 

"What  could  you  do?"  Farwell  leaned  forward 
and  gazed  into  the  strange  blue  eyes  fixed  upon 
him. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     61 

"Dance.  Have  you  ever  seen  me  dance?  Do  you 
want  to?"  She  was  prepared  to  prove  herself. 

"Good  Lord!  no,  no!" 

"Oh!  I  can  dance.  If  some  one  would  play  for 
me  —  play  on  —  on  a  fiddle,  I  could  dance  all  day 
and  night.  Wouldn't  people  pay  for  that?" 

This  was  serious  business.  By  some  subtle  sug- 
gestion Priscilla  Glenn  had  introduced  into  the  bare, 
cleanly  room  an  atmosphere  of  danger,  a  curious 
sense  of  unreality  and  excitement. 

"Yes  —  they  do  pay,"  Farwell  said  slowly;  "but 
where  in  heaven's  name  did  you  get  such  ideas?" 

The  girl  looked  impishly  saucy.  She  was  making  a 
sensation  again  and,  while  Anton  Farwell  was  not 
affected  as  her  parents  had  been,  he  was  undoubt- 
edly impressed. 

"It's  this  way:  You  have  to  sell  what  you've  got 
until  you  get  something  better.  There  isn't  an 
earthly  thing  I  can  do  but  dance  now;  of  course  I 
can  learn.  Don't  you  remember  the  nice  story 
about  the  old  woman  who  went  to  market  her  eggs 
for  to  sell?  Master  Farwell,  I'm  like  her,  and  my 
dancing  is  my  —  egg!" 

She  was  laughing  now,  this  unreasoning,  unrea- 
sonable girl,  and  she  was  laughing  more  at  Farwell's 
perplexity  than  at  her  own  glibness.  She  must  soon 
go,  her  time  was  growing  short,  but  she  was  enjoying 
herself  immensely. 

Looking  at  her,  Farwell  was  suddenly  convinced 


62     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

of  one  overpowering  fact:  Priscilla  Glenn  was  des- 
tined for  —  living!  Hers  was  one  of  those  natures 
that  flash  now  and  then  upon  a  commonplace  ex- 
istence, a  strange  soul  from  an  unknown  port,  never 
resting  until  it  finds  its  way  back. 

"Poor  little  girl!"  whispered  Farwell,  and  then  he 
talked  to  her. 

Would  she  let  him  go  to  her  father  and  mother? 

" What's  the  use?"  questioned  Priscilla,  and  she 
told  him  of  the  experience  in  the  woods.  "Father 
saw  only  evil  when  it  was  the  most  beautiful  thing 
that  ever  happened." 

Farwell  saw  a  wider  stretch  and  more  danger. 

"But  I  will  try,  and  anyway,  Priscilla,  if  I  promise 
to  help  you  get  ready,  will  you  promise  me  to  do 
noting  without  consulting  me?" 

This  the  girl  was  ready  enough  to  do.  She  was 
restless  and  defiant  under  her  new  emotion,  but  in- 
tuitively she  had  sought  Farwell  because  he  had 
before  aided  her  and  sympathized  with  her.  Yes, 
she  would  confide  in  him. 

That  night  Farwell  called  at  Lonely  Farm.  Fol- 
lowed by  his  two  lean,  ugly  sledge  dogs  he  made  his 
way  to  the  barn  where  Nathaniel  was  doing  the 
evening's  work.  While  the  men  talked,  the  dogs, 
behind  the  building,  fought  silently  and  ferociously. 
Farwell  had  fed  one  before  he  left  home  and  a  bitter 
jealousy  lay  between  the  animals.  It  was  almost 
more  than  one  might  hope  that  the  master  could 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     63 

influence  Glenn  or  change  his  mind,  but  Farwell 
did  bring  to  bear  an  argument  that,  because  nothing 
else  presented  itself,  swayed  the  father. 

"You  cannot  get  the  same  results  from  all  child- 
ren," Farwell  said,  looking  afar  and  smiling  grimly; 
"there's  no  use  trying  to  make  an  abnormal  child 
into  a  normal  one.  Priscilla  is  like  a  wild  thing  of 
the  woods.  You  may  tame  her,  if  you  go  about  it 
right;  you'll  never  be  able  to  force  her.  She's  kind 
and  affectionate,  but  she  cannot  be  fettered  or  caged, 
without  mischief  being  done.  Better  let  her  think 
she  is  having  her  own  way,  or  —  she  may  take 
it!" 

"I'll  break  her  will!"  muttered  Glenn. 

"And  if  you  do  —  what  then?" 

"She'll  fall  into  line  —  women  do!  Their  life 
takes  it  out  of  them.  Once  I  get  her  on  the  right 
track,  she'll  go  straight  enough.  There's  no  other 
way  for  her  sex,  thank  God!" 

"She'd  be  a  poor,  despicable  thing  if  she  was 
cowed."  Contempt  rang  in  Farwell's  voice. 

"She'd  serve  her  purpose."  Glenn  was  so  angry 
that  he  became  brutal.  "Spirit  ain't  needed  for 
her  job." 

"Purpose?     Job?"     Farwell  repeated. 

"Yes.  Child-bearing;  husband-serving.  If  they 
take  to  it  naturally  they're  all  the  better  off;  if  they 
have  to  be  brought  to  terms  —  well,  then  — 

Gradually  the  truth  dawned  upon  Farwell,  and 


64 

his  thin  face  flushed,  while  in  his  heart  he  pitied 
Theodora  Glenn  and  Priscilla. 

"I  wish  I'd  kept  to  my  first  ideas!"  Glenn  was 
saying  surlily,  "and  never  let  the  limb  learn  of  you 
or  another.  I  gave  her  her  head  and  here  we  are!" 

"Had  she  been  taught  regularly  by  some  one 
better  fitted  than  I  she  would  have  done  great  credit 
to  you.  She  has  a  bright  mind  and  a  vivid  imagi- 
nation." 

To  this  Glenn  made  no  response,  but  the  energy 
with  which  he  applied  the  brush  to  his  horse  caused 
the  animal  to  rear  dangerously. 

"Come,  come,"  Farwell  continued;  "better  loosen 
the  rein  and  let  her  run  herself  out  —  she  may  settle 
happily  after  a  bit.  If  you  don't,  she  may  run  far- 
ther than  you  know." 

"Run?  Run  where?"  Nathaniel,  safe  from  the 
horse's  heels,  glared  at  Farwell. 

"To  the  States.  There  is  no  sex  line  on  the  bor- 
der." 

"But  there's  good,  plain  law.  I'd  have  her  back 
and  well  cowed,  if  she  attempted  that!" 

And  then  Farwell  played  his  card. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Glenn,  you  do  not  want  to  drive 
this  girl  of  yours  to  —  to  hell!  Of  course  there  is 
law  and  of  course  you  have  the  whip  hand  while 
Priscilla  is  in  your  clutch,  but  with  a  wit  like  hers, 
if  she  slipped  across  the  border  she  could  lose  her- 
self so  completely  that  neither  your  hate  nor  legal 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     65 

power  could  ever  find  her.  Do  you  want  to  drive 
her  to  such  lengths?" 

Some  of  the  truth  of  what  Farwell  was  saying 
dashed  Glenn's  temper  with  fear.  Hard  and  cruel 
as  he  was,  he  was  not  devoid  of  affection  of  a  clammy 
sort,  and  for  an  instant  Priscilla  as  a  helpless  girl 
wandering  among  strangers  replaced  Priscilla,  the 
rebellious  daughter,  and  pity  moved  him. 

"Well, what  do  you  suggest?" he  asked  grudgingly. 

"Simply  this:  You  can  trust  me.  Good  Lord 
you  surely  can  trust  me  with  her!  Let  me  teach 
her  and  bring  a  little  diversion  into  her  life.  What 
she  wants  is  what  all  young  things  want  —  freedom 
and  fun  —  pure,  simple  fun.  Don't  let  her  think 
you  are  expecting  evil  of  her;  let  her  alone!" 

The  extent  of  Glenn's  confusion  may  be  estimated 
by  the  fact  that  he  permitted  Priscilla  thereafter 
to  go,  when  she  chose,  to  Kenmore  and  learn  of 
Farwell  what  Farwell  chose  to  give  her,  and,  for  the 
first  time  in  the  girl's  life,  she  felt  a  glow  of  appre- 
ciation toward  her  father. 

With  this  new  freedom  she  became  happier,  less 
restless,  and  her  admiration  for  Farwell  knew  no 
bounds. 

The  schoolmaster  managed  to  procure  a  violin  and 
laboriously  practised  upon  it  until  an  almost  for- 
gotten gift  was  somewhat  restored.  He  did  not 
play  as  Travers  did  —  he  had  only  his  ear  to  depend 
upon;  he  had  never  been  well  taught  —  but  his  music 


66     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

sufficed  to  accompany  Priscilla's  nimble  feet,  and 
it  gave  Farwell  himself  an  added  interest  in  his  dull 
life. 

"She'll  marry  Jerry-Jo  McAlpin  some  day,"  the 
schoolmaster  thought  at  times;  "and  have  a  brood 
of  half-breeds  —  no  quarter-breeds  —  and  all  this 
joy  and  gladness  will  become  a  blurred,  or  blotted- 
out,  background.  Good  God!" 


CHAPTER  V 

MRS.  McADAM  of  the  White  Fish  Lodge 
came  out  upon  the  village  Green  one  eve- 
ning in  late  August  and,  in  a  loud  voice, 
hailed  Jerry  McAlpin: 

"I've  heard  it  said,"  called  she,  "that  you,  you 
Jerry  McAlpin,  are  not  against  the  taking  away  of 
my  license;  not  against  the  making  of  Kenmore  a 
teetotal  town!" 

There  was  menace  in  the  high-pitched  voice;  warn- 
ing in  the  accusation.  But  Jerry  had  not  taken  a 
drop  to  drink  since  his  self-releasement  from  jail 
(after  an  apology  from  Hornby),  and  he  was  un- 
cannily clear  headed. 

"I've  said  that  same!"  he  replied,  and  stopped 
short  in  his  walk. 

Two  or  three  other  men,  followed  by  dogs,  paused 
to  listen.  Then  a  boat,  coming  in  loaded  with  fish, 
tied  up  to  the  wharf,  and  the  crew,  leaning  over  the 
sides,  waited  for  developments. 

"And  for  why?"  called  Mary,  hands  on  hips  and 
her  sharp  eyes  blazing. 

"For  this:  The  drink  turns  us  mad!  I'm  late 
finding  it  out,  but  I've  found  it!  It  sent  me  to  jail 

67 


68     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

with  my  wits  all  afire.  My  boy  drank  that  night, 
drank  like  a  young  beast,  and  lay  on  the  floor  of  the 
cabin,  they  tell  me,  after  I  went  away;  and  he  only 
sixteen,  and  his  dead  uncle  stark  there  beside  him 
for  company!" 

By  this  time  a  goodly  gathering  was  on  the  Green, 
and  Mary  was  in  her  element. 

"And  so,"  she  said  calmly,  waxing  eloquent  as 
her  power  grew,  "you  and  the  like  of  you  would 
take  an  honest  woman's  living  from  her,  and  she  a 
God-be-praised  widow  at  that,  because  you  can't 
control  the  beast  in  yourselves  and  can't  train  the 
cubs  of  your  kennels!" 

This  was  going  to  great  lengths,  and  many  a 
listener  who  sided  with  Mary  was  chilled  by  her 
offensive  words. 

"Come!  come!"  warned  Hornby,  the  father  of  the 
recently  lured  Jamsie,  "them  ain't  exactly  womanly 
terms,  are  they?" 

But  Mary  was  on  her  high  horse.  Availing  her- 
self of  the  safety  her  sex  secured  for  her,  she  struck 
left  and  right  without  grace  or  favour,  and  her 
audience  gaped  while  they  listened. 

"Oh,  I  know!  'Tis  this  year  a  dry  town  with 
me  ruined,  and  it's  next  year  a  wet  town  with  Mc- 
Alpin,  Hornby,  or  another  creature  in  trousers 
taking  my  place;  and  after  that  there  will  be  no 
more  dry  town  for  ever  and  ever!  It's  not  morals 
you  are  after,  but  a  man-controlled  tavern.  Blast 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     69 

ye!'*  A  sneer  marked  Mary's  thin,  dark  face. 
"You  want  your  drinks  and  your  freedom,  but  you 
say  you  fear  for  your  lads.  Shame  on  you!  Have 
I  no  lads?" 

Silence. 

"Have  I  not  trained  them  in  the  way  they  should 
go?  Do  I  fear  for  them?"  A  grave  silence,  and 
McAlpin  glared  at  Hornby,  while  an  irreverent 
youth,  with  a  fish  dangling  from  his  hands,  laughed 
and  muttered: 

"Like  gorrems!" 

"Play  a  man's  part,  Jerry  McAlpin.  'Tis  not  for 
Jerry-Jo  you  fear;  it's  my  business  you'd  get  from 
me,  and  you  know  it!  Teach  that  lad  of  yours  to  be 
decent,  as  I've  trained  mine.  I  have  no  fear  for  my 
boys!  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about,  and  I  tell 
you  now,  if  my  lads  were  like  yours  I'd  fling  the 
business  over,  but  I  don't  see  why  a  decent  woman, 
and  her  a  God-be-praised  widow,  should  lose  her 
living  because  you  can't  train  your  brats  in  the  way 
they  should  go.  But  this  is  mine!  If  you  don't 
stand  by  me  and  swear  to  do  it  here  and  now,  it's 
not  another  drink  one  of  you  shall  get  in  my  place 
till  after  things  are  settled." 

This  was  going  farther  than  Mary  McAdam  had 
ever  gone  before.  She  had  threatened  dire  restric- 
tions against  them  who  failed  to  support  her  cause 
should  her  cause  be  won  in  spite  of  them;  she  had 
even  hinted  at  cash  payments  to  insure  her  against 


70     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

want  if,  possibly,  her  license  was  revoked,  but  this 
shutting  down  upon  human  rights  before  election 
came  off  was  upsetting  to  the  last  degree.  Hornby 
looked  at  McAlpin  and  McAlpin  dropped  his  eyes; 
there  was  a  muttering  and  a  grumbling,  and  a  general 
feeling  prevailed  that  every  man  should  be  his  own 
keeper  and  the  guardian  of  his  own  sons,  and  it  would 
be  a  bitter  wrong  against  a  God-be-praised  widow 
to  let  family  affairs  ruin  her  business. 

In  the  end  Mary  McAdam,  with  a  manly  fol- 
lowing of  stern  upholders  of  individual  rights  and 
the  opportunity  for  mutual  good  fellowship,  retired 
to  the  bar  of  the  White  Fish  and,  waited  upon  by 
Mary  herself  and  her  two  exemplary  sons,  made 
merry  far  into  the  evening. 

Tom  and  Sandy  McAdam,  handsome,  carefree 
boys  of  sixteen  and  eighteen,  passed  the  drinks  with 
many  a  jest  and  often  a  wink,  but  never  a  drop  drank 
they,  not  until  the  Lodge  had  closed  its  doors  on  all 
visitors,  and  then  Tom,  the  elder,  writh  a  final  leer 
at  Sandy  the  younger,  drained  off  a  glass  of  bad 
whjsky  with  a  grace  that  betokened  long  practice. 

"Hold,  there!"  cautioned  Sandy,  filling  a  glass  of 
beer  for  himself;  "you'll  not  be  able  to  hide  it  from 
the  mother,  you  galoot." 

"Oh,  the  night's  long  before  the  day  breaks,  and 
it's  yourself  as  must  take  the  turn  at  house  chores 
the  morning." 

The  following  day  was  cloudy  and  threatening, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     71 

and  why  Mary  McAdam  should  take  that  time  for 
suggesting  that  her  boys  go  over  to  Wyland  Island 
and  buy  their  winter  suits,  she  herself  could  not  have 
told.  Perhaps,  from  the  assurance  of  last  night,  she 
felt  freer  with  money;  perhaps  she  thought  the  boys 
could  not  be  spared  so  well  later;  be  that  as  it  might, 
she  insisted,  even  against  Sandy's  remark  that  "a 
lad  couldn't  put  his  mind  to  a  winter  outfit  with  the 
sweat  rolling  down  his  back,"  that  they  should  set 
forth  by  eleven  o'clock. 

"Make  a  lark  of  it,"  said  she  generously;  "take 
that  scapegoat  Jerry- Jo  McAlpin  with  you  and  have 
it  out  with  him  about  being  a  young  beast  and  worry- 
ing the  heart  out  of  old  Jerry,  who  means  well  but 
ain't  got  no  kind  of  a  headpiece.  Take  your  lunch 
along  and " 

Here  she  pointed  her  remarks  with  a  lean,  com- 
manding finger:  "You  take  that  sail  off  the  launch! 
It's  quiet  enough  now,  but  it  ain't  going  to  last  for- 
ever, and  I  couldn't  rest  with  three  flighty  lads  in  a 
boat  with  a  sail  and  an  engine." 

Mrs.  McAdam  always  expected  to  be  obeyed. 
Her  personality  was  such  that  she  generally  was;  but 
always,  when  disobedience  followed,  it  was  hidden 
from  her  immediate  attention,  and  she  was  never 
one  to  show  the  weakness  of  watching  to  see  her 
orders  carried  out.  That  was  why  she,  of  all  the 
people  in  the  little  village,  did  not  realize  that  her 
boys  often  drank  more  than  was  good  for  them  — 


72     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

always  managed,  by  clever  devices,  to  escape  her 
eye. 

"A  glass  of  harmless  stuff  now  and  again,"  she 
would  say  with  a  toss  of  her  head;  "what's  that  but 
a  proof  of  the  lads'  self-control?  That's  what  I'm 
a-telling  you:  make  your  lads  strong  and  self-re- 
specting." 

Tom  did  not  take  the  sail  from  the  boat  that  day? 
neither  did  he  expect  to  use  it.  He  furled  it  close 
and  shipped  it  carefully,  but  it  was  late,  and,  in  the 
last  hurry,  he  kept  his  mother's  caution  in  mind,  but 
did  not  carry  out  her  command.  Then  Sandy,  when 
they  were  about  to  start,  did  a  bold  thing.  Stealing 
into  the  bar,  he  took  a  bottle  of  whisky  and  a  bottle 
of  brandy;  these  he  hid  under  his  reefer,  and,  with  a 
laugh  at  his  own  cunning,  put  into  the  empty  places 
on  the  shelves  two  partly  filled  bottles,  and  ran  to 
the  wharf. 

Mary  McAdam  waved  them  a  farewell  from  the 
steps.  She  had  packed  the  hamper  and  stowed  it 
under  the  very  sail  she  had  ordered  off.  In  the 
excitement  of  preparation  she  overlooked  it  entirely. 

"You,  Sandy,  see  to  it  that  you  buy  a  suit  that 
you  won't  repent  when  the  winter  nips  you!"  she 
called. 

"And  you,  Tom,  get  a  quiet  colour  and  no 
checks!  When  yer  last  year's  suit  shrank  and  the 
squares  got  crooked  ye  looked  like  a  damaged 
checker-board!" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     73 

Jerry- Jo  McAlpin  from  his  seat  in  the  stern  roared 
with  laughter  at  this,  and  just  then  the  sturdy  little 
engine  puffed,  thudded,  and  "caught  on,"  and  off 
went  the  three  with  loud  words  of  good-bye. 

The  Channel  was  as  smooth  as  a  summer  brook, 
and  the  launch  shot  ahead. 

"It's  a  bit  chilly,"  Sandy  said  as  they  neared  the 
mouth  opening  at  Flying  Point  into  the  Little  Bay. 

"Put  on  your  storm  coat,"  cautioned  Tom,  "and 
you,  too,  Jerry- Jo;  we'll  get  the  wind  when  we  pass 
Dreamer's  Rock  and  strike  the  Big  Bay." 

The  boys  got  out  their  coats  and  put  them  on,  and 
then  Sandy  said: 

"See  what  I've  got!  Snitched  it  from  under  the 
mother's  eye,  too!"  He  held  up  the  bottles.  Tom 
laughed,  but  Jerry- Jo  reached  out  for  one. 

"A  nip  will  ward  off  the  cold  better  than  a  coat," 
he  said. 

They  all  three  indulged  in  this  preventive. 

Beyond  Dreamer's  Rock  the  wind  fulfilled  Tom's 
prophecy;  it  was  not  a  great  wind,  but  it  was  a  steady 
one,  and,  perhaps,  because  the  whisky  had  warmed 
Tom's  blood  too  hastily  and  hotly,  he  grew  reckless. 

"What  do  you  say,  fellows,  to  eating  our  lunch 
and  then  trying  sail  and  engine  together?  We  could 
beat  the  record  and  surprise  folks  by  our  time  in 
coming  and  going.  The  wind's  safe;  not  a  pufF! 
What  do  you  say?" 

Jerry- Jo  was  something  of  a  coward,  but  by  the 


74     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

time  he  had  eaten  his  lunch  and  washed  it  down  with 
more  whisky  than  he  had  meant  to  take,  he  was 
ready  to  handle  the  sail  himself  and  proceeded  to 
do  so. 

Little  Bear  Island  was  the  last  one  before  the 
entrance  to  Big  Bay,  and  when  the  launch  passed 
that,  either  the  wind  had  changed,  or  Tom,  at  the 
engine  and  Jerry-Jo  at  the  sail,  had  lost  nerve  and 
head,  for  the  boat  became  unmanageable.  Sandy, 
keeping  to  the  exact  middle  of  the  boat,  called  to 
Jerry-Jo  to  lower  the  sail,  but  Jerry-Jo  did  not  hear, 
or  failed  to  clearly  comprehend.  The  little  craft 
shot  ahead  like  an  arrow,  but  Tom  knew  that  when 
they  went  about  there  would  be  trouble.  They 
were  fully  a  mile  from  either  rock-bound  shore. 
Wyland  Island  was  a  good  two  miles  before  them, 
and  home  seven  miles  to  the  rear. 

A  biggish  sea  was  rolling  and  the  sky  was  clouding 
threateningly.  The  liquor  had  done  its  worst  for 
the  boys:  it  had  unnerved  them,  while  at  the  same 
time  it  had  given  them  a  mad  courage. 

"Keep  straight  ahead,"  shouted  Tom,  "until  we 
get  near  shore,  and  then  pull  in  that  infernal  sail!" 

What  happened  just  then  Jerry- Jo  could  never  tell, 
and  he  alone  remained  at  the  day's  end  for  the  telling! 

They  were  in  the  water,  all  three  of  them!  For  a 
moment  Jerry-Jo,  thoroughly  sobered  and  keener 
witted  than  he  had  ever  been  before  in  his  life,  be- 
lieved he  was  the  only  one  of  the  party  ever  again 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     75 

to  appear  in  that  angry  sea.  Then  he  saw  the  over- 
turned boat,  heard  the  last  sobbing  pants  of  the  en- 
gine as  it  filled  with  water;  then  Tom's  black  head 
and  agonized  face  appeared;  then  Sandy's  red  head. 
They  all  made  for  the  boat  and  the  wide  sail  lying 
flat  in  the  water! 

They  reached  the  launch,  chilled  and  desperate, 
climbed  upon  it,  and  gazed  helplessly  at  each  other. 
Through  chattering  teeth  they  tried  to  speak,  but 
only  a  moan  escaped  Tom's  blue  lips.  The  wind 
was  colder;  the  sun  had  gone  behind  a  bank  of  dull 
storm  clouds.  After  a  long  while  Sandy,  looking  over 
the  expanse  of  ugly  choppy  waves,  shuddered  and 
panted: 

"It's  going  to  be  dark  soon;  it  can't  be  more  than  a 
half  mile  to  yonder  rock  —  I'm  for  swimming  to  it! 
Once  on  land  we  can  move  about,  get  our  blood  go- 
ing, and  perhaps  find  a  sheltered  spot  —  till  — ' 
morning!" 

Tom  looked  at  his  brother  vaguely;  he  was  suffer- 
ing keenly: 

"Don't  be  a  fool!"  he  shuddered.  Jerry- Jo, 
huddled  in  a  wet  heap,  was  sobbing  like  a  baby  — 
gone  utterly  to  pieces. 

Another  hideous  space  of  silence  followed,  then 
Sandy  spoke  again: 

"I'm  going  to  make  the  try.  I'm  dying  of  cold. 
It's  the  only  chance  for  any  of  us.  Here  goes ! " 

And  before  any  one  could  interfere  he  made  his 


;6  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

leap  and  was  in  the  water,  a  bobbing  speck  among 
the  ugly  white  caps! 

"Good  God!" 

That  was  all  Tom  said,  but  his  crazed  eyes  were 
upon  that  strained,  uplifted  face.  Jerry-Jo  ceased 
his  moaning  and  —  laughed !  It  was  a  foolish  cackle, 
such  as  a  maniac  might  give,  mistaking  a  death- 
struggle  for  a  bit  of  play. 

"He's  —  a  good  swimmer!"  he  gasped,  and 
laughed  again.  Tom  turned,  for  an  instant,  won- 
dering eyes  upon  him.  He  may  have,  in  that  mo- 
ment, estimated  his  own  chance,  his  duty  to  Jerry- Jo, 
and  his  determination  to  be  with  his  brother.  The 
perplexed  gaze  lasted  but  the  briefest  space  of  time 
and  then  with: 

"All  right!  here  goes!"  he  was  making  for  Sandy 
with  a  strength  born  of  despair  and  madness. 

"Come  back!"  shrieked  Jerry- Jo  with  the  frenzy 
of  one  deserted  and  too  cowardly  or  helpless  to  fol- 
low: "Come  back!" 

But  neither  swimmer  heard  nor  heeded.  For  a 
moment  more  the  black  and  the  red  heads  bobbed 
about,  the  faces  turned  toward  each  other  grimly. 
Even  in  that  waste  and  at  the  bitter  last  the  sense 
of  companionship  held  their  thought.  Jerry-Jo, 
rigid  and  every  sense  at  last  alert  in  an  effort  for 
self-preservation,  saw  Sandy  smile.  It  was  a  won- 
derful smile:  it  was  like  a  flash  of  sunlight  on  that 
black  sea;  then  Sandy's  lips  moved,  but  no  one 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     77 

was  ever  to  know  what  he  said,  and  then  —  Jerry- 
Jo  was  alone  in  the  coming  night  and  the  rolling 
waves ! 

"They  should,"  said  Mary  McAdam,  "be  home 
by  seven  at  the  latest.  The  wind's  with  them 
coming  back;  it  was  with  them  part  of  the  way 
going!" 

Anton  Farwell  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  Lodge,  his 
dogs  peacefully  lying  at  his  feet.  All  day,  since 
hearing  of  the  boys'  trip,  he  had  been  restless  and 
anxious.  Farwell  had  his  bad  hours  often,  but  he 
rarely  permitted  himself  companionship  at  such 
times,  but  to-day,  after  his  noon  meal,  he  had  been 
unable  to  keep  away  from  the  Lodge. 

"Fall's  setting  in  early,"  Mrs.  McAdam  went  on; 
"pickerel  come;  whitefish  go.  Beasts  and  fish  and 
birds  ken  a  lot,  Mr.  Farwell." 

"They  certainly  do.  The  more  you  live  with 
dumb  creatures,  the  more  you  are  impressed  with 
that.  Is  that  Sandy's  dog,  Mrs.  McAdam?'* 

A  yellow,  lank  dog  came  sniffing  around  the  side  of 
the  house  and  lay  down,  friendly  wise,  by  Farwell.1 

"Yes,  and  he's  a  cute  one.  Do  you  believe  me, 
Mr.  Farwell,  that  there  Bounder  knows  the  engine 
of  our  boatl  Any  other  boat  can  come  into  the 
Channel  and  he  don't  take  any  notice,  but  let  my 
boys  be  out  late  and  Bounder,  lying  asleep  on  the 
floor,  will  start  up  at  the  chugging  of  the  launch  and 
make  for  the  dock.  He  never  makes  a  mistake." 


78     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Farwell  laughed  and  bent  over  to  smooth  Boun- 
der's back. 

"What  time  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"Six-thirty,"  Mary  replied  with  alarming  readi- 
ness. "Six-thirty,  and  the  clock's  a  bit  slow  at 
that." 

Farwell  felt  sure  it  was  a  good  ten  minutes  slow; 
but  because  of  that  he  turned  the  conversation. 

"Jerry  McAlpin  was  telling  me  to-day,"  he  said 
in  his  low,  pleasant  voice,  "of  how  he  and  others 
used  to  smuggle  liquor  over  the  border.  Jerry  seems 
repenting  of  his  past." 

Mary  laughed  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"My  man  and  Jerry,  with  old  Michael  McAlpin, 
were  the  freest  of  smugglers.  In  them  days  the 
McAlpins  wasn't  pestered  with  feelings;  they  was 
good  sports.  Jerry  marrying  that  full-breed  had  it 
taken  out  of  him  somewhat  —  she  was  a  hifty  one. 
Them  Indians  never  can  get  off  their  high  heels  — 
not  the  full-breeds.  But  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Farwell, 
and  you  take  it  for  truth,  when  Jerry  begins  to 
maudle  about  repentance,  it's  just  before  a  —  de- 
bauch. I  know  the  signs." 

Just  then  Bounder  raised  his  head  and  howled. 

"None  of  that!  Off  with  yer!"  shouted  Mary, 
making  for  the  dog  with  nervous  energy.  "Once," 
she  went  on,  her  lips  twitching,  "my  man  and  Mi- 
chael McAlpin  had  a  good  one  on  the  officers.  They 
had  a  big  load  of  the  stuff  on  the  cart  and  were  com- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     79 

ing  down  the  road  back  of  the  Far  Hill  Place  when 
they  sensed  the  custom  men  in  the  bushes.  What 
do  they  do  but  cut  the  traces  and  lick  the  horses  into 
a  run;  then  they  turned  the  barrels  loose,  jumped 
off,  letting  them  roll  down  the  hill,  and  they,  them- 
selves, made  for  safety.  It  was  only  a  bit  more 
trouble  to  go  back  in  a  week's  time  and  gather  up 
the  barrels;  but  those  government  devils  followed 
the  horses  like  idiots  and  felt  mighty  set  up  when 
they  overtook  them!  But  when  they  saw  they  had 
only  the  horses,  oh!  good  Lord!" 

Farwell  laughed  absently;  his  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  water.  Even  in  the  Channel  it  had  an  angry 
look.  The  current  was  set  from  the  Bay,  and  the 
stream  rose  and  fell  as  if  it  had  an  ugly  secret  in  its 
keeping. 

"Mrs.  McAdam,"  he  said  suddenly,  "I'm  going 
out  to  —  to  meet  the  boys!" 

"God  save  ye,  Mr.  Farwell  —  for  which?" 

When  Mary  fell  into  that  form  of  speech  she  was 
either  troubled  or  infuriated. 

"I'm  restless;  I  feel  like  a  fling.  Come  on,  you 
scamps!"  to  his  dogs,  "get  home  and  keep  house 
till  I  come  back." 

His  dogs  leaped  to  him  and  then  made  for  the 
Green.  Without  another  word  Farwell  walked  to 
his  launch  at  the  foot  of  the  wharf  steps  and  pre- 
pared for  his  trip. 

A  black  wave  of  fear  enveloped  Mary  McAdam. 


8o     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

She  was  overcome  by  a  certainty  of  evil,  and,  when 
Farwell's  boat  had  disappeared,  she  strode  to  the 
Green  and  gave  vent  to  her  anxiety.  There  were 
those  who  comforted,  those  who  jeered,  but  the 
men  were  largely  away  on  fishing  business,  and  the 
women  and  boys  were  more  interested  in  her  excite- 
ment than  they  were  in  her  cause  for  fear. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  and  very  dark  when  Doctor 
Ledyard,  driving  down  from  Far  Hill  Place  for  the 
mail,  paused  to  listen  to  Mrs.  McAdam's  expressions 
of  anxiety.  Young  Dick  Travers  was  beside  him, 
and  Mary's  words  held  him. 

"Was  Jerry- Jo  with  your  boys,  Mrs.  McAdam?" 
he  asked. 

"He  was  that!  And  Jerry-Jo  always  brings  ill- 
luck  on  a  trip.  I  should  have  known  better  than 
to  let  the  half-breed  scamp  go.  'Twas  pity  as 
moved  me.  Jerry- Jo  is  one  as  thinks  rocking  a  boat 
is  spirit,  and  yelling  for  help,  when  no  help  is  needed, 
a  rare  joke.  The  young  devil!" 

Doctor  Ledyard  and  Dick  stayed  on  after  getting 
the  mail.  A  strange,  tense  feeling  was  growing  in 
the  place.  Mary's  terror  was  contagious. 

"If  the  men  would  only  come  back,"  moaned  the 
distracted  mother;  "I'd  send  the  lot  of  them  out 
after  the  young  limbs!" 

At  eight-thirty  the  storm  broke.  A  dull,  thick 
storm  which  had  used  most  of  its  fury  out  beyond 
Flying  Point,  and  in  the  breast  of  the  sullen  wind 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     81 

came  the  sound  of  an  engine  panting,  panting  in 
the  darkness  that  was  shot  by  flashes  of  lightning 
and  rent  by  thunder-claps.  Mary  McAdam  gazed 
petrified  at  Bounder,  who  had  followed  her  to  the 
Green. 

"Why  don't  yer  yelp?"  she  muttered,  giving  the 
dog  a  kick.  But  Bounder  blinked  indifferently  as 
the  coming  boat  drew  near  and  nearer. 

Every  boy,  woman,  and  child,  with  the  old  men 
and  lazy  young  ones,  were  at  the  wharf  when  the 
launch  emerged  from  the  darkness.  Some  one  was 
standing  up  guiding  the  boat,  ready  to  protect  it 
from  violent  contact;  some  one  was  huddled  on  the 
floor  of  the  boat  —  some  one  who  made  no  cry,  did 
not  look  up.  They  two  were  all!  Just  then  a  lurid 
flash  of  lightning  seemed  to  photograph  the  scene 
forever  on  the  minds  of  the  onlookers. 

Ledyard,  with  Dick,  was  close  to  the  boat  when  it 
touched  the  dock.  By  the  lurid  light  of  electricity 
the  face  of  the  man  in  the  launch  rose  sharply  against 
the  darkness  and  for  one  instant  shone  as  if  to  at- 
tract attention. 

Farwell  was  known  by  reputation  to  the  doctor; 
he  had  probably  been  seen  by  him  many  times,  but 
certainly  his  face  had  never  made  an  impression 
upon  him  before.  But  now,  in  the  hour  of  anguish 
and  excitement,  it  held  Ledyard's  thought  to  the 
exclusion  of  everything  else. 

"Who?  where?"    The  questions  ran  through  his 


82     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

mind  and  then,  because  every  sense  was  alert,  he 
knew! 

"Jerry-Jo!"  Dick  was  calling,  "where  are  the 
others?" 

It  was  a  mad  question,  but  the  boy,  huddling  in 
the  launch,  replied  quiveringly: 

"Gone!  gone  to  the  bottom  off  Dreamer's  Rock." 

Then  he  began  to  whimper  piteously. 

A  shuddering  cry  rang  out.  It  was  Mary  Mc- 
Adam,  who,  followed  by  her  dog,  ran  wildly,  apron 
over  head,  toward  the  White  Fish  Lodge. 

Farwell,  casting  all  reserve  aside,  worked  with 
Ledyard  over  the  prostrate  Jerry-Jo.  The  recog- 
nition was  no  shock  to  him;  he  had  always  known 
Ledyard;  had  cleverly  kept  from  his  notice  hereto- 
fore, but  now  the  one  thing  he  had  hoped  to  escape 
was  upon  him,  and  he  grew  strangely  indifferent 
to  what  lay  before. 

He  obeyed  every  command  of  the  doctor  as  they 
sought  to  restore  Jerry-Jo.  More  than  once  their 
eyes  met  and  their  hands  touched,  but  the  contact 
did  not  cause  a  tremor  in  either  man. 

When  the  inevitable  arrives  a  strength  accom- 
panies it.  Nature  rarely  deserts  either  friend  or  foe 
at  the  critical  moment. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  bay  was  dragged,  various  methods  being 
used,  but  the   bodies  of  Sandy  and  Tom 
McAdam  were  not  recovered.     Mary  Mc- 
Adam  with  strained  eyes  and  rigid  lips  waited  at 
the  wharf  as  each  party  returned,  and  when  at  last 
hope  died  in  her  poor  heart,  she  set  about  the  doing 
of  two  things  that  she  felt  must  be  done. 

The  behaviour  of  the  boys  in  the  boat  on  the  day 
of  the  accident  had  at  last  reached  her  ears,  for, 
with  such  excitement  prevailing  and  Jerry-Jo  re- 
duced to  periods  of  nervous  babbling  as  he  repeated 
again  and  again  the  story,  Mary  was  certain  of 
overhearing  the  details.  As  far  as  possible  she 
verified  every  word.  That  her  sons  had  disobeyed 
her  about  the  sail  there  could  be  no  doubt,  and  when 
she  went  to  the  shelf  of  the  bar  and  discovered  the 
half-filled  bottles  which  Sandy  had  put  in  the  places 
of  the  brandy  and  whisky,  her  heart  gave  up  doubt. 
She  relinquished  all  that  she  had  prided  herself 
upon  in  the  past.  They  had  defied  and  deceived 
her!  They  had  permitted  her  to  be  mocked  while 
she  prated  of  her  superiority!  It  was  bitter  hard, 
but  Mary  McAdam  made  no  feeble  cry  —  she  pre- 
83 


84     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

pared  for  the  final  act  in  the  little  drama.     Beyond 
that  she  could  not,  would  not  look. 

"Dig  me  two  graves,"  she  commanded  Big 
Hornby;  "dig  them  one  on  either  side  of  my 
husband's." 

"You'll  be  thinking  the  bodies  will  yet  be  found, 
poor  soul?"  Hornby  had  a  tender  nature  kept  hu- 
man by  his  hunger  for  his  absent  boys. 

"I'm  not  thinking.  I'm  doing  my  part;  let  others 
do  the  same." 

And  then  Mary  went  to  Anton  Farwell.  Far- 
well,  since  the  night  of  the  tragedy,  was  waiting, 
always  waiting  for  the  inevitable.  Every  knock  at 
his  door  brought  him  panting  to  his  feet.  He  knew 
Doctor  Ledyard  would  come;  he  fervently  hoped 
he  would,  and  soon,  but  the  days  dragged  on.  There 
were  moments  when  the  man  had  a  wild  desire  to 
shoulder  his  bag  and  set  forth  under  shadow  of  the 
night  and  the  excitement,  for  one  of  his  long  absences, 
this  one,  however,  to  terminate  as  far  from  Kenmore 
as  possible.  Once  he  had  even  started,  but  at  the  edge 
of  the  water  where  his  boat  lay  he  halted,  deterred  by 
the  knowledge  that  his  safer  course  lay  in  facing  what 
he  must  face  sooner  or  later.  Now  that  he  was  known 
to  be  alive  it  were  easier  to  deal  with  one  man  than 
with  the  pack  of  bloodhounds  which  that  one  man 
might  set  upon  him.  Always  the  personal  element 
entered  in  —  it  was  weak  hope,  but  the  only  one.  He 
might  win  Ledyard;  he  could  not  win  the  pack! 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     85 

When  Mary  McAdam  knocked  on  Farwell's  door 
he  thought  the  time  had  come,  but  the  sight  of -the 
distracted  mother  steadied  him.  Here  was  some- 
thing for  him  to  do,  something  to  carry  him  away 
from  his  lonely  forebodings. 

"Come  in,  Mrs.  McAdam.  Rest  yourself.  You 
look  sorely  in  need  of  rest." 

It  was  the  early  evening  of  a  hot  day.  It  was 
lighter  out  of  doors  than  in  the  cottage,  for  the 
shades  were  drawn  at  Farweirs  windows;  he  dis- 
liked the  idea  of  being  watched  from  without. 

"I  can't  rest,  Master  Farwell,  till  I've  done  my 
task,"  said  the  poor  soul,  sinking  into  the  nearest 
chair.  "And  it's  to  get  your  help  I've  come." 

"I'll  do  what  I  can,"  murmured  Farwell.  "What 
I'll  be  permitted  to  do,"  he  felt  would  be  more  true. 

"I've  said  more  than  once,  Mr.  Farwell,  that  were 
my  boys  like  other  boys  I'd  give  up  the  business  of 
the  White  Fish.  Well,  my  lads  were  like  others, 
only  they  were  keener  about  deceiving  me.  I  thought 
I'd  made  them  strong  and  sure,  but  I  did  the  same 
hurt  to  my  flesh  and  blood  that  I  did  to  others.  I 
put  evil  too  close  and  easy  to  them.  I  prided  my- 
self on  what  I  had  never  done!  They'll  come  back 
to  me  no  more.  Could  I  have  a  talk  with  them, 
things  might  be  straightened  out;  but  I  must  do 
what  is  to  be  done  alone." 

Not  a  quiver  shook  the  low,  severe  voice.  The 
very  hardness  moved  Farwell  to  deep  pity. 


86     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"It's  now,  Mr.  Farwell,  that  I'd  have  you  come 
to  the  Lodge  and  help  me  with  my  task,  and  when 
it's  over  I  want  you  to  stand  with  me  beside  those 
two  empty  graves  and  say  what  you  can  for  them 
who  never  had  the  right  mother  to  teach  them. 
I'm  no  church  woman;  the  job  of  priest  and  minister 
sickens  me,  but  I  know  a  good  man  when  I  see  one. 
You  helped  the  lads  while  they  lived;  you  risked 
your  life  to  help  them  home  at  the  last;  and  it's  you 
who  shall  consecrate  the  empty  beds  where  I'd  have 
my  lads  lie  if  the  power  were  mine!" 

Farwell  got  up  and  paced  the  room  restlessly. 
Suddenly,  with  Ledyard's  recognition,  the  poor  shell 
of  respectability  and  self-respect  which,  during  his 
lonely  years,  had  grown  about  him,  was  torn  asunder, 
and  he  was  what  he  knew  the  doctor  believed  him. 
To  such,  Mary  McAdam's  request  seemed  a  cruel 
jest,  a  taunt  to  drive  him  into  the  open.  And  yet 
he  knew  that  up  to  the  last  ditch  he  must  hold  to 
what  he  had  secured  for  himself — the  trust  and 
friendship  of  these  simple  people.  Hard  and  dis- 
tasteful as  the  effort  was  he  dared  not  turn  himself 
from  it.  Full  well  he  knew  that  Ledyard's  mag- 
nifying glass  was,  unseen,  being  used  against  him 
even  now.  The  delay  was  probably  caused  by  the 
doctor's  silent  investigation  of  his  recent  life,  his 
daily  deeds.  He  could  well  imagine  the  amusement, 
contempt,  and  disbelief  that  would  meet  the  story 
of  his  poor,  blameless  years  during  which  he  had 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     87 

played  with  children,  worked  in  his  garden,  been 
friends  with  the  common  folk,  not  from  any  high 
motive,  but  to  keep  himself  from  insanity!  He  had 
had  to  use  any  material  at  hand,  and  it  had  brought 
about  certain  results  that  Ledyard  would  dissect 
and  toss  aside,  he  would  never  believe!  Still  the 
attempt  to  live  on,  as  he  had  lived,  must  be  under- 
taken. A  kind  of  desperation  overcame  him. 

What  did  it  matter?  He  might  just  as  well  go 
on  until  he  was  stopped.  He  was  no  safer,  no  more 
comfortable,  sitting  apart  waiting  for  his  summons. 
He  would,  as  far  as  in  him  lay,  ignore  the  menacing 
thing  that  hovered  near,  and  play  the  part  of  a  man 
while  he  might. 

"I'm  ready  to  go  with  you,  Mrs.  McAdam,"  he 
said,  turning  for  his  hat,  "and  as  we  go  tell  me  what 
you  are  about  to  do." 

It  was  no  easy  telling.  The  mere  statement  of 
fact  was  so  crude  that  Farwell  could  not,  by  any 
possibility,  comprehend  the  dramatic  scene  he  was 
soon  to  witness  and  partake  of. 

"I'm  going  to  keep  my  word,"  Mary  McAdam 
explained.  "I'll  not  be  waiting  for  the  license  to 
be  given,  or  taken  away,  I'll  keep  my  word." 

It  was  a  still,  breathless  night,  with  a  moon  nearly 
full,  and  as  Mrs.  McAdam,  accompanied  by  Far- 
well,  passed  over  the  Green  toward  the  Lodge,  the 
idlers  and  loiterers  followed  after  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance. Mary  was  the  centre  of  attraction  just  then, 


88     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

and  Farwell  always  commanded  attention,  used  as 
the  people  were  to  him. 

"Come  on!  come  on!"  called  Mary  without  turn- 
ing her  head.  "Bring  others  and  behold  the  sight 
of  your  lives.  Behold  a  woman  keeping  her  word 
when  the  need  for  the  keeping  is  over!" 

A  growing  excitement  was  rising  in  Mary's  voice; 
she  was  nearing  the  end  of  her  endurance  and  was 
becoming  reckless. 

By  the  time  the  Lodge  was  reached  a  goodly 
crowd  was  at  the  steps  leading  up  to  the  bar.  Jerry 
McAlpin  was  there  with  Jerry-Jo  beside  him. 
Hornby,  just  come  from  the  digging  of  the  two 
graves,  stood  nearby  with  the  scent  of  fresh  earth 
clinging  to  him. 

Suddenly  Mary  McAdam  came  out  of  the  house, 
her  arms  filled  with  bottles,  while  behind  her  fol- 
lowed Farwell  rolling  a  cask. 

What  occurred  then  was  so  surprising  and  be- 
wildering that  those  who  looked  on  were  never  able 
to  clearly  describe  the  scene.  Standing  with  her 
load,  Mary  McAdam  spoke  fierce,  hot  words.  She 
showed  herself  no  mercy,  asked  for  no  pity.  She  had 
dealt  in  a  business  that  threatened  the  souls  of  men 
and  boys,  made  harder  the  lives  of  women.  She  had 
blinded  herself  and  made  herself  believe  that  she  and 
hers  were  better,  stronger  than  others,  and  now  - 

Mary  was  magnificent  in  her  abandon  and  de- 
spair. Her  words  flowed  freely,  her  eyes  flashed. 


'And  now,'  she  cried,  'I'll  keep  my  word  to  you.      Here! 
here!  here!'     The  bottles  went  whirling  and  crashing 
on  the  rocks  near  the  roadway  " 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS      89 

"And  now,"  she  cried,  "I'll  keep  my  word  to  you. 
Here!  here!  here!" 

The  bottles  went  whirling  and  crashing  on  the 
rocks  near  the  roadway. 

"And  you,  Master  Farwell,  break  open  the  keg 
and  set  the  evil  thing  free." 

This  Farwell  proceeded  to  do  with  energy  born 
of  the  hour.  "And  fetch  out  all  that  remains!" 
shrieked  Mary.  "Here,  you!  McAlpin,  I'll  have 
none  of  your  help!  Stay  in  your  place;  I'd  not 
trust  you  inside  when  all's  as  free  as  it  is  to-night. 
You  have  your  lad  —  heaven  help  you!  Keep  him 
and  give  him  a  clean  chance.  Nor  you,  Hornby! 
Out  with  you!  It's  a  wicked  waste,  is  it?  Better 
so  than  what  I  suffer.  Your  lads  are  above  ground, 
though  out  of  your  sight,  Hornby,  while  mine  - 
Here,  Master,  more!  more!  let  us  water  the  earth." 

The  mad  scene  went  on  until  the  last  drop  of 
liquor  was  soaking  into  the  earth  or  dripping  from 
the  rocks. 

White-faced  and  stern,  Farwell  carried  out  the 
mother's  commands  and  heeded  not  the  muttered 
discontent  or  the  approach  of  the  horse  and  buggy 
bearing  Doctor  Ledyard  and  Dick  Travers.  He  was 
one  in  the  drama  now  and  he  played  his  part. 

At  the  close  a  dull  silence  rested  on  the  group, 
then  Mary  McAdam  made  her  appeal.  Her  voice 
broke;  her  hands  trembled.  She  looked  aged  and 
forlorn. 


9o     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"And  now,"  she  said;  "who'll  come  to  the  grave- 
yard with  me?" 

She  need  not  have  asked.  To  the  last  child  they 
followed  mutely.  They  were  overcome  by  curi- 
osity and  fear,  and  the  faces  in  the  dull  light  of  the 
late  day  and  early  night  looked  ghostly. 

As  Farwell  stood  near  Mary  McAdam  by  the 
newly  made  graves,  he  raised  his  eyes  and  found 
Ledyard's  stern,  yet  amused,  ones  on  his  face.  For  a 
moment  he  quivered,  but  with  the  courage  of  one 
facing  an  operation,  the  outcome  of  which  he  could 
not  know,  he  returned  the  look  steadily.  He  heard 
his  own  voice  speaking  words  of  helpfulness,  words 
of  memory-haunted  scenes.  He  told  of  Tom's  cour- 
age and  Sandy's  sunshiny  nature.  'Twas  youth, 
he  pleaded  for  them,  youth  with  its  blindness  and 
lack  of  foresight.  He  recalled  the  last  dread  act  as 
Jerry- Jo  had  depicted  it.  The  older  brother  risking 
all  for  the  younger.  The  smile  —  Sandy's  last  be- 
quest —  the  moving  lips  that  doubtless  spoke  words 
of  affection  to  the  only  one  who  could  hear  them. 
Together  they  had  played  their  pranks,  had  trod 
the  common  path;  together  they  went  —  Farwell 
paused,  then  returned  Ledyard's  sneering  gaze  de- 
fiantly,—  "To  God  who  alone  can  understand  and 
judge!"  This  was  flung  out  boldly,  recklessly. 

With  ceremony  and  the  sound  of  sobbing,  the 
empty  graves  were  refilled,  and  the  strange  company 
turned  away. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     91 

Then,  alone  and  spent,  Farwell  returned  to  his 
cottage  with  a  sure  sense  that  before  he  slept  he 
would  know  his  fate,  for  he  acknowledged  that  his 
fate  lay  largely,  now,  in  the  hands  of  the  man  who 
no  longer  had  any  doubt  of  his  identity. 

It  was  half-past  eight  when  the  buggy  passed 
Farwell's  window  bound  for  the  Hill  Place.  Young 
Travers  was  driving  and  the  seat  beside  him  was 
empty!  Nine  o'clock  struck;  the  lights  went  out 
in  the  village,  but  Farwell  rose  and  trimmed  his 
lamp  carefully.  Ten  o'clock  —  all  Kenmore,  except- 
ing Mary  McAdam,  slept.  Still  Farwell  waited 
while  his  clock  ticked  out  the  palpitating  seconds. 
The  moonlight  flooded  the  Green.  Where  was  he, 
that  waiting  man  who  was  to  come  and  give  the 
blow  ? 

It  was  nearly  eleven  when  Farwell  saw  him  ad- 
vancing across  the  Green.  He  had  been  down  by  the 
water,  probably  hiding  in  some  anchored  boat  until 
he  was  sure  that  he  would  not  be  seen.  As  he 
reached  the  door  of  Farwell's  house  a  clear  voice 
called  to  him: 

"Will  you  come  in,  or  would  you  prefer  to  have 
me  come  out?" 

This  took  Ledyard  rather  at  a  disadvantage.  He 
could  hardly  have  told  what  he  expected,  but  he 
certainly  did  not  look  for  this  calm  acceptance  of 
him  and  his  errand. 

"I'll  come  in.     I  see  you  have  a  light.     Thank 


92     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

you" —  for  Farwell  had  offered  a  chair  near  the 
table  —  "I  hope  I'm  not  disturbing  you." 

The  irony  of  this  was  apparently  lost  upon  Far- 
well.  He  sat  opposite  Ledyard,  his  arms  folded  on 
the  table,  waiting. 

"So  you're  alive!" 

"So  it  seems  —  at  least  partly  so."  Farwell 
parried  the  blows  as  one  does  even  when  he  sees 
failure  at  hand. 

"Perhaps  you  know  your  death  was  reported  some 
years  ago?  There  was  a  full  account.  You  were 
escaping  into  Canada.  The  La  Belle  was  the  name 
of  the  boat.  It  went  down  near  here?" 

"Off  Bleak  Head,"  Farwell  broke  in. 

"Thanks.  There  was  even  a  picture  of  you  in  the 
papers,"  Ledyard  said. 

"A  very  poor  one,  I  recall."  Now  that  he 
was  on  the  dissecting  table,  Farwell  found  himself 
strangely  calm  and  collected.  He  saw  that  his 
manner  irritated  Ledyard;  felt  that  it  might  ruin  his 
chances,  but  he  held  to  it  grimly. 

"So  you  saw  —  the  papers?"  The  eyes  under 
the  shaggy  brows  looked  ugly. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  had  them  all  sent  to  me.  It  was 
very  interesting  reading  after  I  got  over  the  shock 
of  the  wreck  and  had  accepted  my  isolated  position." 

"I  suppose  —  Boswell  keeps  in  touch  with  you 
—  damn  him!" 

"Do  you  begrudge  me  —  this  one  friend?" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     93 

"Yes.  You  have  put  yourself  outside  the  pale 
of  human  companionship  and  friendships." 

To  this  Farwell  made  no  rejoinder.  Again  he 
waited. 

"What  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  do  about  it, 
now  that  I've  run  you  down  so  unexpectedly?" 

"I  have  supposed  you  would  tell  me,  once  we  got 
together." 

"Well,  I've  come  to  tell  you!" 

Ledyard  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  stretched 
his  long  legs  out  before  him. 

"But  first  I'm  going  to  ask  you  a  few  questions. 
Your  answers  won't  signify  much  one  way  or  the 
other,  but  I'm  curious.  Why  did  you  make  such  a 
fight  —  just  to  live?  It  must  have  been  a  devil  of 
a  game." 

Farwell  leaned  against  the  table  and  so  came 
nearer  to  his  inquisitor. 

"It  was,"  he  said  quietly,  "and  I  wonder  if  you 
can  understand  why  it  is  that  I'm  glad  to  tell  — 
even  you  about  it?  I  don't  expect  sympathy,  pity, 
or  —  even  justice,  but  when  a  man's  been  on  a  desert 
isle  for  years  it's  a  relief  to  speak  his  own  tongue 
again  to  any  one  who  can  comprehend  and  who  will 
listen." 

"I'm  prepared  to  listen,"  Ledyard  muttered,  and 
shrugged  his  heavy  shoulders;  "it  will  pass  the  time." 

"After  the  thing  was  done,"  Farwell  plunged  in, 
"the  thing  I  —  had  to  do  —  I  was  dazed;  I  couldn't 


94     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

think  clear.  I'd  been  driven  by  drink  and  —  and 
other  things  into  a  state  bordering  on  delirium. 
Afterward,  when  they  had  me  and  I  was  forced  to 
live  normally,  simply,  I  began  to  think  clearly  and 
suffer.  God!  how  I  suffered!  I  faced  death  with 
the  horror  that  only  an  intelligent  person  can  know. 
I  saw  no  escape.  The  trial,  the  verdict,  brought 
me  closer  and  closer  to  the  hideous  reality.  At  first 
I  thought  it  could  not  happen  to  me  —  to  me!  But 
it  could!  I  sat  day  in  and  day  out,  looking  at  the 
electric  chair!  That  was  all  I  could  see:  it  stood 
like  a  symbol  of  all  the  torture.  I  wondered  how 
I  would  approach  it.  Would  I  falter,  or  go  as  most 
poor  devils  do  —  steadily?  I  saw  myself — after- 
ward —  all  that  was  left  of  me  to  give  back  to  the 
world.  Oh!  I  suffered,  I  suffered!" 

The  white,  haggard  face  held  Ledyard's  fascinated 
gaze,  but  drew  no  word  from  him. 

Farwell  loosened  the  neck  of  his  shirt  —  he  was 
stifling,  yet  feeling  relief  as  the  past  dreams  of  his 
lonely  life  formed  themselves  into  words. 

"At  night  I  was  haunted  by  visions,"  the  low, 
vibrant  voice  rushed  on.  "It  was  worse  at  night 
when  semi-unconsciousness  made  me  helpless.  I'd 
wake  up  yelling,  not  with  fright,  but  pain,  actual 
pain  —  the  hot,  knifing  pain  of  an  electric  current 
trying  to  find  my  heart  and  brain. 

"Then  they  said  I  was  mad.  Well,  so  I  was;  and 
the  fight  was  on!  At  first  there  was  a  gleam  —  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     95 

chair  faded  from  sight.  If  I  lived  —  there  was 
hope;  but  I  was  mistaken.  You  know  the  rest. 
The  legal  struggle,  the  escapes  and  captures.  One 
friend  and  much  money  did  what  they  could;  it 
wasn't  much. 

"You've  seen  a  cat  play  with  a  mouse?  The 
mouse  always  runs,  doesn't  it?  Well,  so  did  I, 
though  I  didn't  know  where  in  God's  world  I  was 
running,  nor  to  what." 

For  some  minutes  Farwell  had  been  speaking  like 
a  man  distraught  by  fever.  He  had  forgotten  the 
listener  across  the  table;  he  was  remembering  aloud 
at  last,  with  no  fear  of  consequences.  He  did  not 
look  at  Ledyard,  and  when  he  spoke  again  it  was  in 
a  calmer  tone. 

"It  was  on  the  last  run  —  that  I  was  supposed  to 
have  drowned.  Well,  I  did  die;  at  least  something 
in  me  died.  I  lost  breath,  consciousness,  and  when 
I  came  to  I  was  a  poor,  broken  thing  not  worth 
turning  the  hounds  on.  I'm  done  for  as  far  as  the 
past's  concerned.  I'm  a  different  man  —  not  a 
reformed  one!  God  knows  I  never  played  that 
role.  I'm  another  man.  I  took  what  I  could  to 
keep  me  from  insanity.  I  had  to  do  something  to 
occupy  my  time.  That's  why  I've  taught  these 
poor  little  devils;  it  wasn't  for  them,  it  was  for  me; 
and  when  they  grew  to  like  me  and  trust  me  —  I 
was  grateful.  Grateful  for  even  that!" 

Ledyard  was  holding  the  white,  drawn  face  by 


96     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

his  merciless  eyes.  So  he  looked  when  a  particularly 
interesting  subject  lay  under  his  knife  and  he  was 
all  surgeon  —  no  man. 

"But  you're  not  equal  to  going  back  to  the  States 
without  being  hauled  there  —  and  taking  you  medi- 
cine?" he  asked  calmly. 

"No.  I  suppose  in  the  final  analysis  all  that  jus- 
tice demands  is  that  I  should  be  put  out  of  the  way 
—  out  of  the  way  of  harming  others?  Well,  that's 
accomplished.  I  don't  suppose  your  infernal  ideas 
of  justice  claim  that  a  man  should  be  hounded 
beyond  death,  and  every  chance  for  right  living  be 
barred  from  him  ?  If  a  poor  devil  ever  can  expatiate 
his  sin  and  try  to  live  a  decent  life,  why  shouldn't 
he  be  given  the  opportunity  here  and  now  instead  of 
in  some  mythical  place  among  creatures  of  one's 
fancy?" 

"You  didn't  argue  that  way  when  you  shot 
Charles  Martin  down,  did  you?  He  was  my  friend; 
he  had  to  —  take  his  medicine!"  Ledyard  almost 
snarled  out  these  words.  "He  may  have  deserved 
his  punishment  for  the  lapses  of  his  life  —  but  you 
were  not  the  one  to  deal  it.  His  family  demand 
and  should  have  justice  for  him  —  I  mean  to  see 
that  they  shall.  Martin,  for  all  his  folly  was  a 
genius,  and  gave  to  the  world  his  toll  of  service. 
Why  should  you,  who  gave  nothing,  escape  at  his 
expense? " 

"Martin  was  no  better,  no  worse,  than  I.     He  and 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS      97 

I  lived  on  the  same  plane  then;  had  the  same  in- 
terests. Had  I  not  killed  him,  he  would  have  killed 
me.  He  swore  that." 

"But  you  took  him  —  at  a  disadvantage,  like  the 

damned "  Ledyard  paused;  he  was  losing  his 

self-control.  The  calm,  living  face  across  the  table 
enraged  him. 

"I  met  him  in  the  open;  I  did  not  know  he  was 
unarmed.  I  drew  my  pistol  in  full  view.  A  week 
before  he  had  done  the  same;  I  escaped.  No  one 
believed  that  when  I  told  it  at  the  trial.  I  had  no 
witnesses;  he  had  many  when  I  took  my  revenge." 

"Who  could  believe  you  ?  What  was  your  life  com- 
pared with  his?" 

"Exactly.  Perhaps  that  is  why  I  —  I  kept  run- 
ning. Martin  only  dipped  into  such  lives  as  mine 
was  then;  he  always  scurried  back  to  respectability 
and  honour;  I  grovelled  in  the  mire  and  got  stuck! 
When  you  get  stuck  you  get  what  the  world  calls  — 
justice." 

"I  recall"  —  Ledyard's  face  was  hardening  —  "I 
recall  you  always  squealed.  You  were  always  the 
wronged  one;  society  was  against  you.  Bah!" 

Farwell  sat  unmoved  under  this  attack. 

"I'm  not  squealing  now,"  he  said  quietly;  "I  am 
merely  defending  myself  as  I  can.  That's  the  pre- 
rogative of  any  human  being,  isn't  it?  Why,  see 
here,  Ledyard,  there's  one  thing  men  like  you  never 
comprehend.  On  the  different  stratas  of  life  ex- 


98     THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

actly  the  same  passions,  impulses,  and  emotions  exist; 
it's  the  way  they'redealt  with,how  they  affect  people, 
that  makes  the  difference.  Up  where  you  live  and 
breathe  they  love  and  hate  and  take  revenge,  don't 
they?  That's  what  happened  down  where  I  wal- 
lowed and  where  Martin  sometimes  came  —  to  enjoy 
himself!" 

And  now  Farwell  clutched  his  thin  hands  on  the 
table  to  stay  their  trembling  as  he  went  on: 

"I  loved  —  the  woman  in  the  case.  That  sounds 
strange  to  you,  but  it's  the  only  thing  I  warn  you 
not  to  laugh  at!  I  loved  her  because  she  was  beau- 
tiful, fascinating,  and  as  —  as  bad  as  I.  I  knew  the 
poor  creature  had  never  had  half  a  show.  She  was 
born  in  evil  and  exploited  from  the  cradle  up.  Mar- 
tin knew  it,  too,  and  took  advantage.  She  was 
fair  game  for  him  and  his  money.  When  he  came 
down  to  hell  to  play,  he  played  with  her  and  defied 
me.  But  on  my  plane  it  was  man  against  man,  you 
see,  and  when  he  flung  his  plaything  aside,  she  came 
to  me;  that's  all!  She  told  me  how  he  had  brought 
her  where  she  was  —  yes,  damn  him!  when  she  was 
innocent!  She  paid  her  toll  then,  not  for  his  money 
—  though  who  would  believe  that?  —  but  for  the 
chance  to  be  decent  and  clean.  He  told  her,  when 
she  was  only  sixteen,  that  the  one  way  she  could 
prove  her  vows  to  him  was  to  give  herself  to  him. 
If  she  trusted  him  so  far,  he  could  trust  her.  She 
trusted,  poor  child!  Two  years  later  he  married 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     99 

up  on  his  higher  plane  —  your  plane  —  and  laugh- 
ingly offered  a  second  best  place  to  her.  It  was  the 
only  bargain  she  could  make  then!  The  rest  was 
an  easy  downhill  grade. 

"Well,  I  took  her.  I  was  all  you  say,  but  I  meant 
to  do  the  right  thing  by  her,  and  she  knew  it!  Yes, 
she  knew  it,  and  later  he  came  back  and  tried  to  get 
her  away.  After  I  shot  him  and  went  to  her  with 
the  story  —  she  told  me  she'd  pull  herself  together 
and  wait  for  me  until  —  until  I  came  for  her.  She 
understood!" 

Ledyard  moistened  his  lips  and  set  his  jaws 
harshly.  The  story  had  not  moved  him  to  pity. 

"And  —  where  is  she  now?"  he  asked. 

"In  New  York,  I  suppose.     She  thinks  me  dead." 

"Boswell  tells  you  that?" 

"Yes.  And  he  will  never  let  her  know.  Unless 
I- 

"You  expect  to  go  back  —  some  day?'* 

Farwell  gave  a  dry,  mirthless  laugh  at  this,  and 
then  replied: 

"After  I've  been  dead  long  enough,  when  I've 
been  good  long  enough,  perhaps.  You  know  even 
in  a  disembodied  spirit  hope  dies  hard.  Yes  —  I 
had  hoped  to  go  back." 

"I  —  I  thought  so."  Ledyard  leaned  forward 
and  across  the  table;  his  face  was  not  three  feet 
from  Farwell's. 

"I  like  to  trace  diseases  down  to  the  last  germ," 


ioo  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

he  said.  "You're  a  disease,  Farwell  Maxwell,  a 
mighty,  ugly,  dangerous  one.  You  oughtn't  to  be 
alive;  you're  a  menace  while  you  have  breath  in  your 
body;  you  should  have  died  years  ago  in  payment  of 
your  debt,  just  as  Martin  did,  but  you  escaped,  and 
now  some  one  has  got  to  keep  an  eye  on  you;  see 
that  you  don't  skip  quarantine.  You  understand?" 

Farwell  felt  the  turning  of  the  screw. 

"I'm  going  to  be  the  eye,  Maxwell.  You're  going 
to  stay  right  where  you  are  until  you  pass  off  this 
sphere.  Remembering  what  you  once  were,  your 
pastimes  and  love  of  luxury,  this  seems  as  hellish  a 
place  and  existence  as  even  you  deserve.  When  I  saw 
you  last  night"  —  and  here  Ledyard  laughed  — 
"it  was  all  I  could  do  to  control  myself.  You  play 
your  part  well;  but  you  always  had  a  knack  for 
theatricals.  I  know  I'm  a  hard,  unforgiving  man, 
but  there  is  just  one  phase  of  human  nature  that  I 
will  not  stand  for,  and  that  is  the  refusal  to  take  the 
medicine  prescribed  for  the  disease.  What  incentive 
have  people  for  better  living  and  upright  thinking 
if  every  devil  of  a  fellow  who  gets  through  his  beast- 
iality  is  permitted  to  come  up  into  the  ranks  and 
march  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  best?  If  it's 
living  you  want  and  will  lie  for,  steal  for,  and  beg 
for  —  have  it;  but  have  it  here  where  the  chances 
are  all  against  your  old  self.  You'll  probably  never 
murder  any  one  here  or  ruin  the  women;  so  grovel 
on!" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    101 

As  he  listened  Farwell  seemed  to  shrink  and  age. 
In  that  hour  he  recognized  the  fact  that  through  all 
the  years  of  self-imposed  exile  he  had  held  to  the 
hope  of  release  in  the  future:  the  going  back  to  that 
which  he  had  once  known.  But  looking  at  the  hard, 
set  face  opposite  he  knew  that  this  hope  was  futile: 
he  must  live  forever  where  he  was,  or,  by  departing, 
bring  about  him  the  bloodhounds  of  justice  and 
vengeance.  Ledyard  had  but  to  whistle,  he  knew, 
and  again  the  pursuit  would  be  keen,  and  in  the  end 
—  a  long  blank  lay  beyond  that! 

"You  will  —  stay  where  you  are!"  Ledyard  was 
saying. 

"Surely.     I  intend  to  stay  right  here." 

Then  Farwell  laughed  and  leaned  back  in  his 
chair. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LIFE  settled  into  calm  after  the  storm  and 
subsequent    happenings.     Mary    McAdam, 
having  done  what  she  felt   she   must   do, 
grimly  set  her  house  in  order  and  prepared  for  a  new 
career.     The  bar,  cleansed  and  altered,  became  her 
private  apartment.     With  the  courage  and  endur- 
ance of  a  martyr  she  determined  to  fight  her  battle 
out  where  there  would  be  the  least  encouragement 
or  comfort. 

"I'll  drink  to  the  dregs,"  she  said  to  Mary  Ter-. 
hune,  who  gave  up  her  profession  to  share  the  soli- 
tude and  fortunes  of  the  White  Fish;  "but  while 
I'm  drinking  there's  no  crime  in  serving  my  kind. 
Come  summer  I'll  open  my  doors  to  tourists  and 
keep  the  kind  of  house  a  woman  —  and  a  God-be- 
praised  widow  one  at  that  —  should  keep.  Time 
was  when  the  best  would  not  come  to  me,  the  bar 
being  against  their  liking.  Well,  the  best  may  come 
now  and  find  peace." 

"'Tis  a  changed  woman  you  are,  Mrs.  McAdam." 

"No,  just  a  stricken  one,  Mary.     When  I  sit  by 

those  empty  graves  back  of  the  pasture  lot  I  seem 

to  know  that  I  must  do  the  work  of  my  boys  as 

1 02 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    103 

well  as  my  own  —  and  the  time's  short!  I'm  ever 
sixty." 

"And  looking  forty,  Mrs.  McAdam."  The  man- 
ners of  her  trade  clung  to  Mrs.  Terhune. 

"The  shell  doesn't  count,  Mary,  if  the  heart  of 
you  is  old  and  worn." 

The  people  from  the  Far  Hill  Place  returned 
early  to  town  that  year,  and  Anton  Farwell  breathed 
easier  and  sunk  back  into  his  old  life  when  he  knew 
they  were  gone. 

In  resurrecting  the  man  Farwell  once  was,  Ledyard 
had  all  but  slain  the  man  he  had,  perforce,  become. 

Whether  former  characteristics  were  dead  or  not, 
who  could  tell?  But  certainly  with  temptation 
removed,  with  the  routine  of  a  bleak,  uninteresting 
existence  his  only  choice,  Farwell  was  a  harmless 
creature.  Gradually  he  had  found  solace  in  the 
commonplaces  that  surrounded  him.  Like  a  person 
relieved  of  mortal  agony  he  was  grateful  for  semi- 
invalidism.  Previous  to  Ledyard's  recognition  of 
him  he  had  sunk  to  a  monotonous  indifference, 
waiting,  he  realized  now,  for  the  time  when  he  might 
safely  shake  off  his  disguise  and  slip  away  to  what 
was  once  his  own.  Now,  with  his  exit  from  Ken- 
more  barred,  he  found  that  he  no  longer  could  return 
to  his  stupor;  he  was  alert,  keen,  and  restless.  In  the 
past  he  had  often  forced  himself  to  exercise  in  order 
that  he  might  be  ready  to  journey  on  when  the  time 
of  release  came.  His  walks  to  the  distant  town,  his 


io4  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

long  hours  on  the  water,  had  all  been  preparations 
for  the  final  leave-taking  from  his  living  tomb. 

But  now  that  he  had  no  need  of  lashing  himself 
into  action,  he  found  himself  always  on  the  move. 
He  worked  early  and  late  at  trifling  tasks  that  oc- 
cupied his  hands  while  sharpening  his  wits.  With 
shades  drawn  at  night,  he  drew,  with  pencil  and 
paper,  plans  of  escape.  He  must  choose  a  calm 
spell  after  a  storm;  he  would  take  his  launch,  with  a 
rowboat  behind,  to  the  Fox  Portage.  He'd  set  his 
launch  free  and  shoulder  his  boat.  Once  he  reached 
the  Little  Bay,  he'd  take  his  chances  for  an  outgoing 
steamer.  He'd  have  plenty  of  money  and  a  glib 
story  of  a  bad  connection.  It  would  go.  He  must 
defeat  Ledyard. 

Then  he  would  tear  the  sheets  of  paper  in  bits, 
toss  them  on  the  coals,  and  laugh  bitterly  as  he 
realized  that  he  was  imprisoned  forever. 

Foolish  as  all  this  was,  it  had  its  effect  upon  the 
man.  He  played  with  the  thought  as  a  child  might 
play  with  a  forbidden  toy.  Then  he  decided  to  test 
the  matter.  He  would  have  to  buy  clothes  and  pro- 
visions for  the  winter  —  he  always  made  a  pilgrim- 
age about  this  time.  There  would  be  a  letter  from 
Boswell,  too.  There  always  was  one  in  September. 
So  on  a  certain  morning  Farwell  turned  the  key  in 
his  lock  and  quite  naturally  set  forth  with  a  sense  of 
exaltation  and  freedom  he  had  imagined  he  would 
never  feel  again. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    105 

Followed  by  his  dogs,  he  went  to  his  boat,  which 
happened  just  then  to  be  tied  at  the  ricketty  dock 
of  the  White  Fish. 

"It's  off  for  a  tramp  you  are,  maybe?"  asked  Mrs. 
McAdam  from  her  doorway.  "God  keep  you,  Mr. 
Farwell,  and  bring  you  back  safe  and  sound." 

At  this  Farwell  paused. 

"I  think  I'll  leave  the  dogs  behind,"  he  said.  "I 
may  wish  to  hurry  back,  and  a  brace  of  dogs,  keen  on 
scents  and  full  of  spirits,  is  a  handicap  on  a  journey." 

"Sure  I'll  feed  and  care  for  the  two,  and  welcome, 
and  if  their  staying  behind  brings  you  quicker  home, 
'tis  a  good  piece  of  work  I'm  doing  for  Kenmore." 

With  this  Mary  McAdam  came  down  to  the  boat 
and  looked  keenly  at  Farwell. 

"Are  you  well?"  she  asked  with  a  gentleness  new 
and  touching.  'Tis  pale  you  look,  and  thin,  I'm 
thinking.  I'm  getting  to  depend  upon  you,  and  the 
thought  of  anything  happening  to  you  grieves  the 
heart  of  me.  In  all  Kenmore  there's  no  one  as  I 
lean  on  like  you.  There  be  nights  when  I  look  out 
toward  your  house  and  see  your  light  a-shining  when 
all  else  is  dark,  and  say  to  myself,  'The  master  and 
me'  over  and  over,  and  I'm  less  lonely." 

For  a  moment  Farwell  could  not  speak.  Once  an 
inward  desire  to  laugh,  to  scoff,  would  have  driven 
him  to  supernatural  gravity;  now  he  merely  smiled 
with  grave  pleasure,  and  said: 

"A    tramp    will    do    me    good,    Mrs.    McAdam. 


io6   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Thank  you.  I'll  take  your  words  with  me  for  com- 
fort and  cheer." 

The  first  night  Farwell  slept  beside  his  fire,  not 
ten  miles  from  Kenmore.  He  had  revelled  in  his 
freedom  all  day,  had  played  like  a  boy,  often  re- 
tracing his  steps,  carefully  using  the  same  foot- 
prints, and  laughing  as  he  imagined  the  confusion 
of  any  one  trying  to  follow  him;  the  vague  some- 
body being  always  Ledyard. 

After  a  frugal  meal,  Farwell  smoked  his  pipe,  even 
attempted  a  snatch  of  rollicking  song,  then,  rolling 
himself  in  a  blanket,  fell  into  natural  and  happy 
slumber. 

At  four  he  awoke  with  the  creeping  sensation  of 
unexplainable  fear.  He  first  thought  some  animal 
was  prowling  near,  and,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow, 
looked  keenly  about.  The-  appearance  of  the  fire 
puzzled  him.  It  looked  as  if  fresh  wood  had  been 
laid  upon  it,  but,  as  no  one  was  in  sight  he  concluded 
that  his  own  wood  had  been  damp,  and,  therefore, 
had  burned  slower. 

He  did  not  sleep  again,  however,  and  his  excited 
thoughts  trailed  back  to  his  past  and  the  one  woman 
who  had  magically  caught  and  held  all  the  best 
that  was  in  him.  To  what  point  of  vantage  had  she, 
poor,  disabled  little  soul,  drifted?  The  world  was  a 
hard  enough  place  for  a  woman,  God  knew,  and  for 
her,  with  her  sudden-born  determination  to  rise 
above  the  squalor  of '  ?r  early  youth,  it  would  be  a 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    107 

serious  problem.  Boswell  told  him  so  little.  He 
could  count  on  his  ringers  the  few  sharp  facts  his 
friend  had  given  him  with  the  promise  that  if  con- 
ditions changed  he  should  know,  but  if  all  remained 
well,  he  might  be  secure  in  his  faith  and  hope  for 
the  future.  The  future!  Was  there  any  future  for 
him  except  Kenmore?  And  if  she  heard  now  that 
he  was  alive,  had  only  seemed  dead  for  her  safety 
and  his  own,  would  she  come  to  him  and  share  the 
dun-coloured  life  of  the  In-Place? 

She  was  alive;  she  was  faithful.  Boswell  was 
making  her  comfortable  with  Farwell's  money.  She 
was  accepting  less  and  less  because  she  was  win- 
ning her  way  to  independence  in  an  honourable 
line.  Since  no  man  had  entered  her  life  after  Far- 
well's  death  was  reported,  Farwell  could  readily  see 
why. 

Over  and  over,  that  first  night  in  the  woods,  Far- 
well  rehearsed  these  facts  for  comfort's  sake.  Sup- 
pose he  made  an  escape.  Suppose  he  lost  himself  in 
the  city's  labyrinth  —  what  then? 

And  then,  just  at  daybreak,  a  vivid  and  sharp 
memory  of  the  woman's  face  came  to  him  as  he  had 
last  seen  it  pressed  against  the  bars  of  his  cell.  Be- 
hind the  squares  of  metal  it  shone  like  an  angel's. 
Fair,  pitiful,  wonder-filled  eyes,  and  quivering  mouth. 
All  day  the  picture  haunted  him  and  seemed  to  draw 
him  toward  it.  He  walked  twenty  miles  that  day 
and  came  at  sunset  to  a  dense  jungle  Where  he  made 


io8   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

his  camp  and  stretched  himself  exhaustedly  before 
the  fire. 

Sleep  did  not  come  easily  to  him;  he  was  too 
excited  and  nerve  worn.  The  white  face  checked 
by  iron  bars  would  not  fade,  and  in  the  red  glow  of 
the  flames  it  began  to  look  wan  and  haggard,  as  if 
the  day  had  tired  it  and  it  could  find  no  rest  or  com- 
fort. 

The  feeling  of  suffocation  Ledyard  had  managed 
to  create,  returned  to  him.  He  grew  nervous,  ill  at 
ease,  and  fearful. 

Then  he  fell  to  moralizing.  He  was  not  often 
given  to  that,  or  introspection.  Longing  and  alter- 
nate hope  and  despair  had  been  his  comrades  and 
bedfellows,  but  he  rarely  indulged  in  calm  consider- 
ation. Smoking  his  pipe,  stretched  wearily  on  the 
moss,  he  wondered  if  men  knew  how  much  they  pun- 
ished while  fulfilling  their  ideals  of  justice? 

"If  only  the  sense  of  vindictiveness  could  be  left 
out,"  he  thought;  "the  Lord  knows  they  have  it  all  in 
their  power  once  the  key  is  turned  on  us.  I  de- 
served all  they  meant  to  inflict,  but  no  human  being 
deserves  all  that  was  given  unconsciously." 

Then  Farwell  relived  his  life,  while  the  wood 
crumbled  to  ashes  and  the  moon  came  up  over  the 
hills.  A  misguided,  misspent  boyhood;  too  much 
money;  too  little  common  sense;  then  the  fling  in  the 
open  with  every  emotion  and  desire  uncurbed.  Well, 
he  had  to  learn  his  lesson  and  God  knew  he  had;  but 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     109 

why,  in  the  working  of  things,  shouldn't  one  be  given 
a  chance  to  prove  the  well-learned  task;  an  oppor- 
tunity, while  among  the  living,  to  settle  the  question  ? 

However,  such  fancies  were  idle,  and  Farwell  shook 
the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  gave  a  humorous  shrug. 

It  would  be  a  fine  piece  of  work  to  slip  from  the 
clutches  of  the  past  and  make  good!  This  idea 
caused  him  to  tremble.  Surely  no  one  would  look 
for  him  in  the  camp  of  the  upright.  Walking  the 
paths  of  the  clean  and  sane  he  would  be  more  surely 
secure  from  detection  than  anywhere  else  on  earth. 
That  was  what  his  past  had  done  for  him.  The 
truth  of  this  sank  into  the  lonely  man's  soul  with 
sickening  finality.  And  as  he  realized  it,  and  com- 
pared it  with  the  fact  of  his  youth,  he  groaned.  What 
an  infernal  fool  he  had  been!  What  fools  all  such 
fellows  were  who,  like  him,  wasted  everything  in  their 
determination  to  make  the  unreal,  real.  He  did  not 
now  desire  to  be  a  drivelling  repentant;  he  wanted, 
God  knew  he  really  wanted,  a  chance  to  be  decent 
and  live;  but  in  order  to  live  he  must  go  on  acting  a 
part  and  cringing  and  hiding. 

These  thoughts  led  nowhere  and  unfitted  him  for 
his  journey,  so  he  made  the  fire  safe,  lay  down  be- 
side it,  and  slept  as  many  a  better  man  would  have 
given  much  to  sleep. 

At  four  he  awoke  as  on  the  previous  night.  So 
quietly,  however,  did  he  open  his  eyes  that  he  took 
by  surprise  a  man  crouching  by  the  fire  as  if  stealing 


i  io   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

a  bit  of  warmth.  Farwell  turned  over,  and  the  two 
eyed  each  other  with  wide,  penetrating  gaze. 

Tough  Pine,  the  guide,  finding  himself  discovered, 
grinned  sheepishly;  he  was  loathing  himself  for  being 
taken  off  guard,  and  muttered: 

"Me  share  fire?  me  helped  keep  it." 

Farwell  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  all  the  light 
and  courage  gone  from  his  face.  It  was  the  old 
story,  the  dream  of  freedom  and  —  the  prison  bars! 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  though  he  knew 
full  well. 

"Where  —  you  go?  There,  Pine  go!  Pine  — 
good  friend  and  good  guide." 

They  questioned  each  other  no  more.  Farwell 
finished  his  errand  in  dull  fashion,  bought  his  goods, 
found  a  letter,  long  waiting  him,  read  all  the  papers 
he  could  lay  hands  on,  and  then  set  his  face  toward 
Kenmore.  And  that  winter  he  devoted  himself  as 
he  never  had  before  to  the  simple  people  who  were 
the  means  of  keeping  him  sane. 

Upon  this  newly  restricted  and  devastated  hori- 
zon Priscilla  Glenn  loomed  large  and  vital.  With 
Nathaniel's  loosened  rein  and  Theodora's  restored 
faith,  the  girl  developed  wonderfully.  Farwell  made 
no  more  objection  to  her  dancing  or  her  flights  of 
fancy.  He  fiddled  for  her  and  fed  the  flame  of  her 
imagination.  She  was  the  sunniest  creature  he  had 
ever  known;  the  bleak  life  of  Lonely  Farm  had 
spurred  her  to  greater  lengths  of  self-defence; 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    in 

nothing  could  daunt  her.  She  had  an  absorbing 
curiosity  about  life,  out  and  beyond  the  Kenmore 
confines;  and  more  to  keep  his  own  memory  clear 
than  to  satisfy  Priscilla,  Farwell  set  himself  to  the 
task  of  educating  the  girl  in  ways  that  would  have 
appalled  Nathaniel  and  reduced  Theodora  again  to 
tears  and  apprehension. 

The  bare  room  of  the  master's  house  was  the  stage 
upon  which  were  set,  in  turn,  the  scenes  of  distant 
city  life.  Vicariously  Priscilla  learned  the  manners  of 
a  "real  lady"  under  the  most  trying  circumstances. 
Farwell  told  her  of  plays,  operas,  and,  over  his  deal 
table,  they  chatted  in  brilliant  restaurants.  They 
walked  gay  streets  and  stood  bewildered  before 
flashing  shop  windows.  It  was  all  dangerous,  but 
fascinating,  and  in  the  playing  of  the  game  Farwell 
grew  old  and  drawn,  while  Priscilla  gradually  came 
into  her  Heart's  Desire  of  delight. 

"  My  Road ! "  she  proudly  thought.     "  My  Road ! " 

The  old  poem  was  recalled  and  was  often  repeated 
like  a  litany,  while  life  became  more  and  more 
vital  and  thrilling  with  dull  Kenmore  as  a  back- 
ground and  setting. 

Just  about  this  time  Jerry- Jo  took  to  wearing  his 
Sunday  suit  on  week  days,  thus  proclaiming  his 
aspirations  and  awaking  the  ribald  jests  of  his  par- 
ticular set. 

Mary  Terhune,  now  partner  of  Mrs.  McAdam, 
took  note  of  Jerry-Jo's  appearance,  and,  on  a  certain 


ii2   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

afternoon  in  midwinter,  when  she,  Long  Jean,  and 
Mary  McAdam  sat  by  the  range  in  the  White  Fish 
kitchen,  fanned  a  lively  bit  of  gossip  into  flame. 

"Trade's  a  bit  poor  these  days,  eh,  Jean?" 

Jean  grunted  over  her  cup  of  green  tea. 

"Not  so  many  children  born  as  once  was,  eh? 
What  you  make  of  it,  Jean  —  the  woman  getting 
heady  or  —  which  ? " 

Mary  McAdam  broke  in. 

"What  with  poverty  and  the  terrors  of  losing 
them,  there's  enough  born  to  my  thinking.  Time 
was  when  the  young  'uns  happened;  they're  thought 
more  on,  these  days.  Women  should  have  a  say. 
If  there's  one  thing  a  man  should  keep  his  tongue 
off  it's  this  matter  of  families!" 

To  this  outrageous  sentiment  the  listeners  replied 
merely  by  two  audible  gulps  of  tea,  and  then  Mary 
Terhune  found  grace  to  remark: 

"You  certainly  do  talk  most  wonderful  things, 
Mary  McAdam.  You  be  an  ornament  to  your  sex, 
but  only  such  women  as  you  can  grip  them  audacious 
ideas.  Let  them  be  sowed  broadcast  and 

"Where  would  me,  and  such  as  me,  be?"  Long 
Jean  muttered,  defending  her  profession. 

Mrs.  Terhune  tactfully  turned  the  conversation: 

"Have  you  noticed  the  change  in  Jerry-Jo  Mc- 
Alpin?"  she  asked  with  a  mysterious  shake  of  her 
head. 

"Any  change  for  the  better  would  be  welcome," 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    113 

Mrs.  McAdam  retorted.  "Have  another  cup,  Jean? 
Stronger  weak?" 

"Strong.  I  says  often,  says  I,  that  unless  tea 
curls  your  tongue  you  might  just  as  well  take  water. 
When  I'm  on  duty  I  keep  a  pot  on  the  back  of 
the  stove  week  in  and  week  out;  it  do  brace  me 
powerful." 

Mrs.  McAdam  poured  the  tea  into  the  out- 
stretched cup  and  proceeded  to  discuss  Jerry-Jo. 

"Why  doesn't  the  scamp  go  to  the  States  and  find 
himself  instead  of  worrying  old  Jerry's  very  life  out 
of  him  —  the  vampire!" 

"He  may  have  it  in  his  mind,"  soothed  Mary 
Terhune,  "but  the  lad's  deep  and  far  seeing  like  his 
Injun  mother  —  beg  pardon,  Jean,  the  term's  a  com- 
pliment, God  save  me!" 

"You've  saved  your  face,  Mrs.  Terhune.  Go 
on!" 

Jean  had  begun  to  resent,  but  the  explanation 
mollified  her. 

"More  tea,"  she  said  quietly,  "and  you  might  stir 
the  dregs  a  mite,  Mrs.  McAdam;  it's  plain  sinful  to 
let  the  strength  go  to  waste." 

"If  I  was  Theodora  Glenn,"  Mary  Terhune  went 
on,  monotonously  stirring  the  cold  liquid  in  her  cup, 
"I'd  have  my  eye  on  that  girl  of  hers." 

And  now  the  ingredients  were  prepared  for  the 
mixing! 

"What's  Priscilla  Glenn  got  to  do  with  Jerry- Jo 


ii4  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

McAlpin?"  Mrs.  McAdam  asked  sharply,  fixing 
her  little  ferret  eyes  on  the  speaker. 

Long  Jean  bridled  again  and  interjected: 

"And  for  why  not?  Young  folks  is  young  folks, 
and  there  ain't  too  many  boys  for  the  gels.  What 
with  the  States  and  the  toll  to  death,  the  gels  can't 
be  too  particular,  not  casting  my  flings  at  Jerry- Jo, 
either.  He's  a  handsome  lad  and  will  get  a  footing 
some  day.  Glenn's  girl  ain't  none  too  good  for  him; 
he'd  bring  her  to  her  senses.  All  that  dancing  and 
fiddle-scraping  at  Master  Farwell's  is  not  to  my 
liking.  The  goings-on  are  evil-looking  to  my  mind. 
The  girl  always  was  a  parcel  of  whimwhams  — 
made  up  of  odds  and  ends,  as  it  was,  of  her  fore- 
runners. What  all  the  children  of  the  Glenns 
might  have  been  —  Priscilla  is!" 

"So  Jerry- Jo's  fixed  his  bold  eyes  on  the  girl?'* 
asked  Mary  McAdam.  "It  bodes  no  good  for  her. 
She's  a  sunny  creature  and  mighty  taking  in  her 
ways.  I  wish  her  no  ill,  and  I  hate  to  think  of 
Jerry- Jo  shadowing  her  life  till  she  forgets  to  dance 
and  sing.  For  my  part,  I  wish  the  master  were 
twenty-five  years  younger  and  could  play  for  the 
lass  to  dance  to  the  end  of  their  days." 

"And  a  poor  outlook  for  me!"  grumbled  Jean 
humorously.  "Another  cup  of  the  tea,  Mary  Ter- 
hune,  and  make  it  stronger.  I  begin  to  feel  the 
bitter  in  my  toes." 

And  while  this  talk  and  more  like  it  was  permeat- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    115 

ing  Kenmore,  Jerry- Jo,  adorned  and  uncomfortable, 
did  his  own  thinking  and  planned  his  own  plans 
after  the  manner  of  his  mixed  inheritance.  He 
could  not  settle  to  any  task  or  give  heed  to  any 
temptation  from  the  States  until  he  had  made  Pris- 
cilla  secure.  The  girl's  age  in  no  wise  daunted 
McAlpin.  His  eighteen  years  were  all  that  were 
to  be  considered;  he  knew  what  he  wanted,  what 
he  meant  to  have.  He  could  wait,  he  could  bide 
the  fulfillment  of  his  hopes,  but  one  big,  compelling 
subject  at  a  time  was  all  he  could  master. 

He  secretly  and  furiously  objected  to  the  dancing 
and  visits  in  Farwell's  cottage.  He  was  ashamed 
to  voice  this  feeling,  for  Farwell  was  his  friend  and 
had  taught  him  all  he  knew,  but  Farwell's  age  did 
not  in  the  least  blind  Jerry- Jo  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  man,  and  he  did  not  enjoy  seeing  Priscilla  so  free 
and  easy  with  any  other  of  the  male  sex,  be  he  an- 
cient enough  to  topple  into  the  grave. 

"She'll  dance  for  me  —  for  me!"  the  young  fellow 
ground  his  teeth.  "I'll  make  her  forget  to  prance 
and  grin  unless  she  does  it  for  me.  The  master's 
just  training  her  away  from  me  and  putting  notions 
in  her  head.  I'll  take  her  to  the  States  —  maybe 
her  dancing  will  help  us  both  there.  I  don't  mean 
to  drudge  as  Jamsie  Hornby  does!  Better  things 
forme!" 

Sex  attraction  swayed  Jerry-Jo  madly  in  those 
days  and  he  thought  it  love,  as  many  a  better  man 


ii6  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

had  done  before  him.  The  blood  of  his  mother 
controlled  him  largely  and  he  wished  that  he  might 
carry  the  girl  off  to  his  wigwam,  and,  at  his  leis- 
ure, with  beads  and  blankets,  or  other  less  tangible 
methods,  win  her  and  conquer  her.  But  present 
conditions  held  the  boy  in  check  and  compelled  him 
to  adopt  more  modern  tactics.  He  stole,  when  he 
couldn't  beg,  from  his  poor  father  all  the  money 
Jerry  wrenched  from  an  occasional  day's  work. 
With  this  he  bought  books  for  Priscilla,  vaguely  real- 
izing that  these  would  most  interest  her,  but  his 
selection  often  made  her  laugh.  Piqued  by  her 
indifference,  Jerry- Jo  plotted  a  thing  that  led,  later, 
to  tragic  results.  Remembering  the  favour  Pris- 
cilla had  long  ago  shown  for  the  book  from  Far  Hill 
Place,  he  decided  to  utilize  the  taste  of  the  absent 
owner,  and  the  owner  himself,  for  his  own  ends,  not 
realizing  that  Priscilla  had  never  connected  the 
cripple  Jerry-Jo  had  described,  with  the  musician  of 
the  magic  summer  afternoon  that  had  set  her  life  in 
new  currents. 

It  was  an  easy  matter  to  enter  the  Far  Hill  Place, 
and,  where  one  was  not  troubled  with  conscience, 
a  simple  thing  to  select  at  random,  but  with  econ- 
omy, books  from  the  well-filled  shelves.  These  gifts 
presently  found  their  way  to  Priscilla,  cunningly 
disguised  as  mail  packages.  Inadvertently  the  very 
book  Priscilla  had  once  cried  over  came  to  her  and 
touched  her  strangely. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    117 

"Why  should  he  send  me  these  —  send  me  this?" 
she  asked  Jerry-Jo,  who  had  brought  the  package 
to  her. 

"He  always  wanted  you  to  have  it.  I  told  you 
that;  he  remembers,  I  suppose,  and  wants  you  to 
have  it.  He  said  it  was  more  yours  than  his."  To 
test  her  Jerry-Jo  was  hiding  behind  Travers. 

"I'd  walk  a  hundred  miles  over  the  rock  on  bare 
feet  to  thank  him,"  the  girl  replied,  her  big  eyes 
shining.  And  with  the  words  there  entered  into 
Jerry-Jo's  distorted  imagination  a  concrete  and  last- 
ing jealousy  of  poor  Dick  Travers,  who  was  innocent 
of  any  actual  memory  of  Priscilla  Glenn.  Travers 
at  that  time  was  studying  as  few  college  men  do, 
always  with  the  spur  of  lost  years  and  a  big  ambition 
lashing  him  on. 

During  that  winter  the  stolen  books  from  the 
Far  Hill  Place  caused  Priscilla  much  wonderment 
and  some  little  embarrassment.  She  had  to  keep 
them  secret  owing  to  her  father's  sentiment,  and, 
for  some  reason,  she  did  not  confide  in  Farwell. 
This  new  and  unexpected  interest  in  her  life  was  so 
foreign  to  anything  with  which  the  master  had  to  do 
that  she  felt  no  inclination  to  share  it. 

"But  I  cannot  understand,"  she  often  said  to 
Jerry-Jo.  "I'd  like  to  write  to  him.  Do  you  think 
you  could  find  out  for  me  where  he  is?  That  he 
should  even  remember  me!  I  would  not  have  him 
think  me  so  ungrateful  as  I  must  seem." 


ii8    THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

She  and  Jerry-Jo  were  in  the  path  leading  to  Lonely 
Farm  from  Kenmore  as  she  spoke,  and  suddenly 
something  the  young  fellow  said  brought  her  to  a 
sharp  standstill. 

"Oh!  I  suppose,  after  your  cutting  up  in  the 
woods  that  day  he  wants  to  make  you  remember 
him." 

This  was  an  outburst  that  Jerry-Jo  permitted 
himself  without  forethought.  He  was  using  Travers 
as  an  old  tribeman  might  have  used  torture,  to  test 
his  own  bravery  and  endurance,  but  the  effect  upon 
Priscilla  was  so  startling  and  unexpected  that  he 
fell  back  bewildered. 

"In  —  the  —  the  —  woods?"  she  gasped. 

"Sure.     That  time  your  father  drove  you  home." 

For  a  full  moment  Priscilla  stared  helplessly,  then 
she  began  to  see  light. 

"Do  you  mean,"  she  gasped,  "that  he  who  made 
me  dance  —  was  the  boy  of  the  Hill  Place?" 

"As  if  you  did  not  know  it!"  Jerry-Jo  grunted. 

"  But  Jerry- Jo  you  said  he  —  that  boy  was  a  poor, 
twisted  thing,  ugly  past  all  belief,  while  he  who 
played  and  laughed  that  day  was  like  an  angel  of 
light  just  showing  me  the  way  to  heaven!" 

And  now  Jerry-Jo's  dark  face  was  not  pleasant  to 
look  upon. 

"Can't  a  twisted  thing  become  straight?"  he 
muttered;  "can't  a  devil  trap  himself  out  like  an  — 
an  angel?" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    119 

"Oh!  Jerry- Jo,  he  who  played  for  me  in  the 
woods  could  never  have  been  evil.  Why,  all  his 
life  he  had  been  making  himself  into  something  big 
and  fine.  He  put  into  words  the  things  I  had  always 
thought  and  dreamed  about  —  an  ideal  was  what 
he  called  it!  And  to  think  I  never  knew!  And  he 
remembered  and  wanted  to  be  kind!  I  shall  wor- 
ship him  now  while  I  live.  And  when  he  comes 
back  to  the  Hill  Place  I  will  go  and  thank  him,  even 
if  my  father  should  kill  me.  I  shall  never  be  happy 
until  I  can  explain.  What  a  stupid  he  must  think 
me!" 

After  that  the  secret  became  the  sacredest  thing 
in  Priscilla's  life  and  the  most  tormenting  in  Jerry- 
Jo's.  They  were  both  at  ages  when  such  an  occur- 
rence would  appeal  to  a  girl's  sentimentality  and  a 
young  man's  hatred. 

The  family  did  not  return  to  the  Hill  Place 
for  many  summers,  and  only  once  during  the 
following  years  did  Priscilla's  name  pass  Travers's 
lips. 

Apropos  of  something  they  were  talking  about  he 
said  to  Helen  Travers:  "I  wonder  what  has  be- 
come of  that  little  dancing  dervish  up  in  Canada? 
She  wasn't  plain,  ordinary  stuff,  but  I  suppose  she'll 
be  knocked  into  shape.  Maybe  that  half-breed, 
Jerry-Jo,  will  get  her  when  she's  been  reduced  to 
his  level.  There  are  not  girls  enough  to  go  around 
up  there,  I  fancy.  That  little  thing,  though,  was 


izo  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

too  spiritual  to  be  crushed  and  remodelled.  As  she 
danced  that  day,  her  scarlet  cape  flying  out  in  the 
breeze,  she  looked  like  a  living  flame  darting  up  from 
the  red  rock.  And  those  awful  words  she  uttered  — 
poor  little  pagan!  Jerry- Jo  told  me  afterward  what 
the  lure  of  the  States  meant:  it's  a  provincial  ex- 
pression. Mother,  if  the  lure  should  ever  control 
that  girl  of  Lonely  Farm  I  wish  we  might  greet  her, 
for  safety's  sake." 

But  it  was  not  likely  that  either  of  the  Traverses 
for  a  moment  conceived  of  the  reality  of  Priscilla 
leaving  the  In-Place,  and  in  time  even  the  memory 
of  her  became  blurred  to  Dick  by  the  eternal  verities 
of  his  strenuous  young  life. 

Gradually  his  lameness  disappeared  until  a  slight 
hesitation  at  times  was  all  that  remained.  Five 
years  of  college,  two  abroad  —  one  with  Helen,  one 
with  Doctor  Ledyard  —  and  then  Richard  Thorn- 
ton Travers  (Helen  had,  when  he  went  to  college, 
insisted  for  the  first  time  upon  the  middle  name) 
hung  out  his  modest  sign  —  it  looked  brazenly  glar- 
ing to  him  —  under  that  of  Thomas  R.  Ledyard, 
and  nervously  awaited  the  first  call  upon  him.  He 
was  twenty-five  when  he  started  life,  and  Priscilla 
Glenn,  back  in  forgotten  Kenmore,  was  nearing 
nineteen,  with  Jerry- Jo  in  hot  pursuit  behind  her. 
As  to  Anton  Farwell,  there  was  no  doubt  about  his 
age  now.  Not  even  the  very  old  called  him  young, 
and  there  was  a  pathos  about  him  that  attracted 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    121 

the  attention  of  those  with  whom  he  had  lived  so 
long. 

"He  looks  haunted,"  Mary  Terhune  ventured; 
"he  starts  at  times  when  one  speaks  sudden,  real 
pitiful  like.  The  look  of  his  eyes,  too,  has  the 
queer  flash  of  them  as  sees  forward  as  well  as 
back.  Do  you  mind,  Mrs.  McAdam,  how  'tis  said 
that  them  as  comes  nigh  to  drowning  have  a 
glimpse  on  before  as  well  as  the  picture  of  all  that 
has  past?" 

"I've  heard  the  same,"  nodded  Mary  McAdam. 

"Belike  the  master  remembers  and  often  looks 
to  the  end  of  his  journey.  Well,  he's  been  a  good 
harmless  sort,  as  men  go.  He's  kept  the  children 
out  of  trouble  far  more  than  one  could  expect,  and 
he's  been  a  merciful  creature  to  humans  and  beasts. 
I  wonder  what  he  had  in  his  life  before  he  washed 
up  from  the  La  Belle?" 

All  this  seemed  to  end  the  discussion. 

Mary  McAdam  was  an  important  personage  about 
that  time.  The  White  Fish  Lodge  had  become  fam- 
ous. Without  bar  or  special  privilege  of  any  sort, 
the  house  was  patronized  by  the  best  class  of  tourist. 
Mary  was  a  born  proprietress,  and,  while  she  ex- 
tracted the  last  penny  due  her,  always  gave  full 
value  in  return.  She  and  Mary  Terhune  did  the 
cooking;  a  bevy  of  clean,  young  Indian  girls  from 
Wyland  Island  served  as  waitresses  and  maids,' 
their  quaint,  keen  reserve  was  charming,  and  no 


122   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

better  public  house  could  have  been  found  on  the 
Little  or  Big  Bay. 

Priscilla  drifted  to  the  Lodge  as  naturally  as  a 
flower  turns  to  the  sun.  The  easy-going  people,  the 
laughter  and  merriment  appealed  strongly  to  her, 
and  again  did  she  cause  Jerry-Jo  serious  displeasure 
and  arouse  her  father's  lurking  suspicions. 

"Watch  her!  watch  her!"  was  his  warning,  and 
Theodora  returned  to  her  fears  and  tears. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  [TON  FARWELL  had,  little  by  little,  ac- 
cepted the  fate  of  those  who,  deprived  of 
many  blessings,  learn  to  depend  on  a  few. 
As  the  remaining  senses  are  sharpened  by  the  loss  of 
one,  so  in  this  man's  life  the  cramping  process,  be- 
gun by  his  own  wrongdoing,  and  prolonged  and 
completed  by  other  conditions,  had  the  effect  of 
focussing  all  his  power  on  the  atoms  that  went  to 
the  making  up  of  the  daily  record  of  his  days.  Had 
he  kept  a  diary  it  would  have  been  interesting  from 
its  very  lack  of  large  interest.  And  yet,  with  all 
this  narrowing  down,  a  certain  fineness  and  purpose 
evolved  that  were  both  touching  and  inspiring.  He 
never  complained,  not  even  to  himself.  After  recog- 
nizing the  power  which  Ledyard  held  in  his  life,  he 
relinquished  the  one  hope  that  had  held  him  to  the 
past.  Then,  for  a  year  or  two,  the  light  of  the  doc- 
tor's contempt,  which  had  been  turned  on  him,  took 
the  zest  from  the  small  efforts  he  had  made  for 
better  living  and  caused  him  to  distrust  himself. 
He  saw  himself  what  he  knew  Ledyard  thought  him 
—  a  mean,  cowardly  creature,  and  yet,  in  his  better 
moments,  he  knew  this  was  not  so. 

123 


i24  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Men  have  made  friends  of  mice  and  insects  in 
prison,"  he  argued;  "they  have  kept  their  reason 
by  so  doing;  why,  in  heaven's  name,  shouldn't 
I  play  with  these  people  here  and  make  life 
possible?" 

But  try  as  he  might  he  found  his  courage  failing, 
and  more  and  more  he  dwelt  apart  and  clung  to  the 
few  —  Priscilla  Glenn,  Mary  McAdam,  and  old 
Jerry  McAlpin  —  who  regarded  him  in  the  light  of 
a  priest  to  whom  they  might  confess  freely. 

Then  one  of  Farwell's  dogs  died  and  he  was  gen- 
uinely anxious  at  the  effect  this  had  upon  him. 

"So  this  is  what  I've  come  to!"  he  muttered  as  he 
buried  the  poor  brute,  while  the  tears  fell  from  his 
eyes  and  the  other  dog  whined  dolorously  beside 
him  —  "broken  hearted  over  —  a  mongrel!"  But 
he  got  another  dog! 

For  a  time  Farwell  vigorously  set  himself  against 
depending  upon  Priscilla  Glenn  as  a  support  in  his 
narrowing  sphere.  Many  things  threatened  such  a 
friendship  —  Nathaniel,  Jerry-Jo,  and  the  girl  her- 
self—  for  Priscilla,  during  the  first  years  of  Nathan- 
iel's relaxed  severity,  was  like  a  bee  sipping  every 
flower,  and  Farwell  was  not  at  all  confident  that 
anything  he  had  to  give  would  hold  even  her  pass- 
ing interest  for  long.  Then,  too,  like  a  many- 
wounded  creature,  he  dreaded  a  new  danger,  even 
though  for  a  moment  it  gave  promise  of  comfort. 
But  finally  Priscilla  got  her  bearings  and  more  and 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    125 

more  brought  all  her  powers  to  bear  upon  one  am- 
bition. 

The  childish  madness  that  prompted  her  to  run 
away  from  anything  that  hurt  or  angered  her,  grad- 
ually disappeared,  and  in  its  place  came  a  staid 
determination  to  seek  her  fortunes,  soon,  in  some 
place  distant  from  Kenmore. 

The  tourists  opened  a  new  vista  to  her,  but  many 
of  them,  with  stupid  ignorance,  mistook  her  posi- 
tion and  traditions.  She  was  offered  occupations  as 
cook,  maid,  or  laundress.  She  had  sense  of  hu- 
mour enough  to  laugh  at  these,  and  often  wished 
she  dared  repeat  them  for  her  father's  edification. 

"The  daughter  of  the  King  of  Lonely  Farm,"  she 
said  to  Farwell  one  day  with  her  mocking  smile  and 
comical  courtesy  "is  bidden  to  the  service  of  Mrs. 
Flighty  High  as  skivvy.  If  this  comes  to  the  king's 
ears,  'twill  mean  the  head  of  Mrs.  Flighty  High!" 

Farwell  joined  her  in  her  amusement  and  felt  the 
charm  of  her  coming  womanhood. 

"But  there  is  one  up  at  the  Lodge,"  Priscilla  went 
on  more  gravely,  "who  is  not  such  a  wild  fool.  She 
has  a  sick  baby,  and  for  two  nights  she  and  I  have 
watched  and  tended  together.  She  says  I  have  the 
touch  and  nature  of  the  true  nurse  and  she  has  told 
me  how  in  the  States,  and  England,  too,  they  train 
young  girls  in  this  work.  She  says  we  Canadians 
are  in  great  demand,  and  the  calling  is  a  wonderful 
one,  Master  Farwell." 


126   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

This  interested  Anton  Farwell  a  good  deal  and 
he  and  Priscilla  discussed  it  often  after  the  woman 
who  had  just  broached  it  had  departed.  It  seemed 
such  a  normal,  natural  opening  for  Priscilla  if  the 
time  really  came  for  her  to  go  away.  The  doubt 
that  she  would  eventually  go  was  slight  in  Farwell's 
heart.  He,  keener  than  others,  saw  the  closing-in 
of  conditions.  He  was  not  blind  to  Jerry-Jo's  primi- 
tive attempts  to  attract  the  girl's  attention,  but  he 
was  not  deceived.  When  the  moment  came  that 
Priscilla  recognized  the  half-breed's  real  thought, 
Farwell  knew  her  quick  impulse  would,  as  of  old, 
be  to  fly  away.  She  was  like  a  wild  bird,  he  often 
pondered;  she  would  give  to  great  lengths,  flutter 
close,  and  love  tenderly,  but  no  restraining  or  harsh 
touch  could  do  aught  but  set  her  to  flight. 

At  twenty-three  Jerry-Jo  surlily  and  passionately 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  in  some  way 
capture  his  prize.  Other  youths  were  wearing 
gaudy  ties  and  imperilling  their  Sunday  bests;  he 
was  letting  precious  time  slip.  Then,  too,  by  Far- 
well's  advice,  old  Jerry  was  growing  rigid  along 
financial  lines,  and  at  last  the  States  took  definite 
shape  in  Jerry-Jo's  mind,  but  he  meant  to  have 
Priscilla  before  he  heeded  the  lure.  With  all  his 
brazen  conceit  and  daring  he  intuitively  knew  that 
the  girl  had  never  thought  of  him  as  he  thought  of 
her,  and  he  dared  not  awaken  her  by  legitimate 
means.  Quite  in  keeping  with  his  unrestrained 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    127 

nature,  he  plotted,  indirectly,  to  secure  what  other- 
wise might  escape  him.  Fully  realizing  Nathaniel's 
attitude  toward  his  daughter,  counting  his  distorted 
conceptions  and  foolish  pride,  Jerry-Jo  began  to  con- 
struct an  obstacle  that  would  shut  Priscilla  from  her 
father's  protection  and  cause  her  to  accept  what 
others  had  to  offer  —  others,  being  always  and  ever, 
himself! 

Once  Lonely  Farm  was  closed  to  the  girl,  other 
houses  in  the  serenely  moral  In-Place  would  in- 
evitably slam  their  doors.  The  cunning  of  the  half- 
breed  was  diabolic  in  its  sureness.  Anton  Farwell 
could  not  assume  responsibility  for  Priscilla  if  all 
Kenmore  turned  its  back  on  her,  and  in  that  hour 
the  girl  would,  of  course,  come  running  or  crawling 
—  never  dancing  —  to  him,  Jerry-Jo! 

It  was  all  for  her  own  good,  the  evil  fellow 
thought. 

"I'll  be  kind  to  her  when  I  get  her.  I'm  only 
playing  her  with  the  hook  in  her  mouth." 

But  Jerry- Jo  was  scheming  without  considering 
the  Lure,  which  never  was  long  absent  from  Pris- 
cilla's  mind  at  that  time. 

One  early  September  afternoon  Priscilla  presented 
herself  at  Farwell's  cabin  in  so  startling  a  manner 
that  she  roused  the  man  as  nothing  previously  in 
his  association  with  her  had  ever  done. 

He  was  sitting  at  the  west  window  of  his  living- 
room,  his  back  toward  the  door  leading  to  the  Green. 


128   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

For  a  wonder,  what  he  was  reading  had  absorbed 
him,  and  he  was  far  and  away  from  the  In-Place. 
He  had  taken  to  fine,  old  literature  lately  and  had 
found,  to  his  delight,  that  his  mind  was  capable  of 
appreciating  it. 

"Wisdom,  slow  product  of  laborious  years, 
The  only  fruit  that  life's  cold  winter  bears, 

Thy  sacred  seeds  in  vain  in  youth  we  lay, 
By  the  fierce  storm  of  passion  torn  away; 
Should  some  remain  in  rich,  gen'rous  soil, 
They  long  lie  hid,   and  must  be  raised  with  toil;  ' 
Faintly  they  struggle  with   inclement   skies, 
No  sooner  born  than  the  poor  planter  dies." 

With  such  word-comfort  did  Farwell  dig,  from 
other's  experiences,  crude  guidings  for  himself!  And 
at  that  moment  a  stir  outside  the  open  door  caused 
him  to  turn  and  confront  what,  in  the  excited  mo- 
ment, seemed  an  apparition  from  the  past,  which, 
for  him,  was  sealed  and  barred. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  ejaculated  under  his  breath 
and  started  to  his  feet.  A  visitor  from  the  Lodge 
apparently  had  descended  upon  him. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  he  said  aloud,  and  then  a  laugh, 
familiar  and  ringing,  brought  the  colour  to  his  pale, 
thin  face. 

The  girl  came  in,  threw  back  the  veil  from  her 
merry  face,  and  confronted  Farwell. 

"Miss  Priscilla  Glenn,  sir!     Behold  her  in  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    129 

battered  finery  of  the  place  she  is  going  to  —  to 
grace  some  day!" 

Then  Priscilla  wheeled  about  lightly  and  displayed 
her  gown  to  Farwell's  astonished  eyes. 

"Cast-offs,"  she  explained;  "the  Honourable  Mrs. 
Jones  from  the  States  left  them  with  Mrs.  McAlpin 
for  the  poor.  Just  imagine  the  'poor'  glinting 
around  in  this  gay  silk  gown  all  frayed  at  the 
hem  and  in  holes  under  the  arms!  The  hat  and 
veil,  too,  go  with  the  smart  frock;  likewise  the 
scarf  of  rainbow  colours.  But,  oh!  Mr.  Farwell, 
how  do  I  look  as  a  real  lady  in  my  damaged  out- 
fit?" 

Farwell  stared  without  speaking.  He  had  grown 
so  used  to  the  change  in  the  girl  since  the  time  when 
he  had  prevailed  upon  Glenn  to  loosen  the  rein  upon 
her,  that  the  even  stream  of  their  intercourse  had 
been  unruffled.  He  had  passed  from  teacher  to 
friendly  guide,  from  guide  to  good  comrade;  but 
here  he  was  suddenly  confronting  her  —  man  to 
woman! 

All  his  misfortune  and  limitations  had  but  erected 
a  shield  of  age  about  him  beneath  which  smouldered 
dangerously,  but  unconsciously,  all  the  forbidden  and 
denied  passions  and  sentiments  of  a  male  creature 
of  early  middle  life. 

In  thinking  afterward  of  the  shock  Priscilla  gave 
him,  Farwell  was  always  glad  to  remember  that  his 
first  thought  was  for  her,  her  danger,  her  need. 


130  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"I  declare!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  did  not  know  you, 
Priscilla  Glenn." 

His  tone  had  a  new  ring  in  it,  a  vibration  of  de- 
fence —  the  astonished  male  on  guard  against  the  at- 
tack of  a  subtle  force  whose  power  he  could  not 
estimate. 

"And  no  wonder.  I  did  not  know  myself  when  I 
first  saw  myself.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Farwell,  I 
never  thought  about  my  —  my  face,  much,  but  it  is 
really  a  —  very  nice  face,  isn't  it  ?  As  faces  go,  I 
mean?" 

"Yes,"  Farwell  returned,  looking  at  her  critically 
and  speaking  slowly.  "Yes,  you  are  very  —  beau- 
tiful. I  had  not  thought  of  it  before,  either." 

"Drop  me  down,  now,  in  the  States,  Mr.  Farwell, 
and  I  fancy  that  with  my  looks  and  my  dancing  I 
might  —  well,  go !  What  do  you  think  ? " 

She  was  preening  herself  before  a  small  mirror  and 
did  not  notice  the  elderly  man,  who,  under  her  fas- 
cination, was  being  transformed. 

"You're  a  regular  Frankenstein,"  he  muttered, 
while  the  consciousness  of  the  blue  eyes  in  the  dusky 
skin,  the  long  slenderness  of  her  body,  and  the  hue  of 
her  strange  hair  grew  upon  him.  "Do  you  know 
what  a  Frankenstein  is?" 

"No."  And  now  Priscilla,  weary  of  her  play  and 
self-contemplation,  turned  about  and  took  a  chair 
opposite  Farwell.  "Tell  me." 

So  he  told  her,  but  she  shook  her  head. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    131 

"You've  only  helped  me  to  find  myself;  you  did 
not  make  me,"  she  said  with  a  little  sigh.  "Oh,  Mr. 
Farwell,  I  do  —  much  thinking  up  at  Lonely  Farm. 
The  winters  are  long,  and  the  nights,  too.  You 
know  there  is  a  queer  little  plant  beside  the  spring 
at  the  foot  of  our  garden;  it  has  roots  long  enough 
and  thick  enough  for  a  thing  twice  its  size.  It  grew 
strong  and  sure  underground  before  it  ventured  up. 
It  blossomed  last  summer;  an  odd  flower  it  had.  I 
think  I  am  like  that.  You've  taught  me  to  —  well, 
know  myself.  I  shall  not  shame  you,  Master  Far- 
well.  You  know  we  of  the  lonesome  In-Place  make 
friends  with  strange  objects;  everything  in  nature 
talks  to  us,  if  we  will  but  listen.  You  have  taught 
me  to  listen,  too.  Back  a  piece  in  the  woods  are  a 
strong  young  hemlock  and  a  little  white  birch.  For 
years  I  have  watched  and  tended  them.  When  I 
was  a  small  girl  I  likened  the  hemlock  to  you,  sir, 
and  there  was  I,  leaning  and  huddling  close  to  you, 
like  the  ghostly  stripling  of  the  woods.  Well,  I 
noticed  to-day,  Mr.  Farwell,  the  birch  stands  quite 
securely;  it  doesn't  bend  for  support  on  the  hemlock, 
but  it  is  standing  friendly  all  the  same.  I  think"  — 
and  here  Priscilla  clasped  her  hands  close  and  out- 
stretched them  —  "I  think  I  am  soon  going  away!  " 

Her  eyes  were  tear-dimmed,  her  face  very  earnest. 

"I  wish  —  you  would  give  up  the  childish  folly, 
Priscilla."  A  fear  rose  in  Farwell's  eyes.  "What 
could  you,  such  an  one  as  you  have  become,  do  out — ' 


132   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

in  the  States?     It  is  madness  —  sheer,  brutal  mad- 


ness." 


Priscilla  shook  her  head. 

"You  think  it  childish  folly?  Why,  I  have  never 
lost  sight  of  it  for  a  day.  You  have  not  understood 
me  if  you  have  imagined  that.  I  have  always  known 
I  must  go.  Lately  I  have  felt  the  nearness  of  the 
going,  and  it  is  the  how  to  break  away  and  begin  that 
puzzle  me.  I  am  ready." 

"Priscilla,  you  are  a  wild  child  still,  playing 
with  dangerous  tools.  You  cannot  comprehend  the 
trouble  into  which  you  are  willing,  in  your  blindness, 
to  plunge.  Why,  you  are  a  —  a  woman;  a  beautiful 
one!  Do  you  know  what  the  world  does  with  such, 
unless  they  are  guarded  and  protected?" 

"What  does  it  do?"  The  true  eyes  held  Farwell 
commandingly,  and  with  a  sense  of  dismay  he  looked 
back  at  the  only  world  he  really  knew:  the  world  of 
his  own  ungoverned  passions  and  selfishness.  A 
kind  of  shame  came  over  him,  and  he  felt  he  was  no 
safe  guide.  There  were  worlds  and  worlds!  He  had 
sold  his  birthright;  this  woman,  bent  upon  finding 
hers,  might  inherit  a  fairer  kingdom. 

"What  does  it  do,  Master  Farwell?" 

"I  do  not  know.  It  depends  upon  —  you.  It  is 
like  a  great  quarry  —  I  have  read  somewhere  some- 
thing like  this  —  we  must  all  mould  and  chisel  our 
characters;  some  of  us  crush  them  and  chip  them. 
It  isn't  always  the  world's  fault.  God  help  us!" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    133 

Priscilla  looked  at  him  with  large,  shining  eyes  and 
the  maternal  in  her  rose  to  the  call  of  his  sad  recog- 
nition of  failure  where  she  was  to  go  with  such  brave 
courage. 

"Do  not  fear  for  me,"  she  said  gently;  "'twould 
be  a  poor  return  if  I  failed,  after  all  you  have  done 
for  me." 

"I  —  what  have  I  done ? " 

"Everything.  Have  you  ever  thought  what 
sort  I  would  have  been  had  Lonely  Farm  been  my 
only  training?"  she  smiled  faintly,  and  her  girlish 
face,  in  the  setting  of  the  faded  hat  and  soiled  veil, 
struck  Farwell  again  by  its  change,  which  now 
seemed  to  have  settled  into  permanency.  Of  course 
it  was  only  the  ridiculous  fashion  of  the  world  he 
once  knew,  but  he  could  not  free  himself  of  the  fancy 
that  Priscilla  was  more  her  real  self  in  the  shabby 
trappings  than  she  had  ever  been  in  the  absurd  cos- 
tumes of  the  In-Place. 

With  the  acceptance  of  the  fact  that  the  girl 
really  meant  to  get  away  and  at  once,  a  wave  of 
dreariness  swept  over  him.  He  thought  of  the  time 
on  ahead  when  his  last  vital  interest  would  be  taken 
from  him.  Then  he  aroused  from  his  stupor  and 
brought  his  mind  to  bear  upon  the  inevitable;  the 
here  and  now. 

"It's  a  big  drop  in  your  ambition,  Priscilla,"  he 
said;  "you  used  to  think  you  could  dance  your  way 
to  your  throne." 


I34  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"There  is  no  throne  now,  Master  Farwell.  I'm 
just  thinking  all  the  time  of  My  Road." 

"But  there's  the  Heart's  Desire  at  the  end,  you 
know." 

"Yes;  but  I  do  not  think  I  would  want  it  to  be  a 
throne." 

"What  then?" 

"Oh !  love  —  my  own  life  —  the  giving  and  giving 
just  where  I  long  to  give.  It's  splendid  to  tramp 
along  your  road,  if  it  is  your  road,  and  be  jolly  and 
friendly  with  those  you  care  for.  It  will  all  be  so 
different  from  Kenmore,  where  one  has  to  take  what 
one  must." 

"I  wonder  how  Jerry- Jo  will  feel  about  all  this?" 

"Jerry-Jo!  And  what  right  has  he  to  think  at 
all  —  about  me  ? " 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed  with  mischief  and  daring. 

"Jerry-Jo!"  she  laughed  with  amusement.  "Just 
big,  Indian-boy  Jerry- Jo!  We've  played  together 
and  quarrelled  together,  but  you're  all  wrong,  Master 
Farwell,  if  you  think  he  cares  about  me!  He  knows 
better  than  that  —  far,  far,  better." 

But  even  as  she  spoke  the  light  and  fun  left  her 
eyes.  She  looked  older,  more  thoughtful. 

"Isn't  it  queer?"  she  said  after  a  pause. 

"What,  Priscilla?" 

"Oh,  life  and  people  and  the  things  that  go  to 
their  making?  You're  quite  wrong  about  Jerry- Jo. 
I'\n  sure  you're  wrong." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     135 

Then  suddenly  she  sprang   up. 

"I  must  go,"  she  said  abruptly;  "go  and  exchange 
these  rags  for  my  own  plain  things.  I  only  wanted 
to  surprise  you,  sir;  and  how  deadly  serious  we  have 
grown." 

She  passed  out  of  the  cottage  without  a  word 
more.  Farwell  watched  her  across  the  Green  and 
up  to  the  Lodge.  He  was  disturbed  and  restless. 
The  old  fever  of  escape  overcame  him.  With  the 
thought  of  Priscilla's  flight  into  the  open,  he  strained 
against  the  trap  that  Ledyard  had  caught  him  in. 
The  guide  who,  he  knew,  never  permitted  him  to  es- 
cape his  vigilance,  became  a  new  and  alarming  ob- 
stacle, and  Farwell  set  his  teeth  grimly.  Then  he 
muttered: 

"Curse  him!  curse  him!"  and  an  emotion  which  he 
had  believed  was  long  since  dead  rose  hotly  in  his 
consciousness.  Before  the  dread  spectre,  suddenly 
imbued  with  vitality,  Farwell  reeled  and  covered  his 
face.  Murder  was  in  his  heart  —  the  old  madness  of 
desire  to  wipe  out,  by  any  means,  that  which  barred 
his  way  to  what  he  wanted. 

"My  God!"  he  moaned;  "my  God!  I  —  I  thought 
I  —  was  master.  I  thought  it  was  dead  in  me." 

Farwell  ate  no  evening  meal  that  night.  Early 
he  closed  and  locked  his  outer  door,  drew  the  dark 
green  shades,  and  lighted  his  lamp.  His  hands  were 
clammy  and  cold,  and  he  could  not  blot  out  with 
book  or  violin  the  horror  of  Charles  Martin's  face 


136  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

as  it  looked  up  at  him  that  night  so  long  ago.  Way 
on  toward  morning  Farwell  paced  his  room  trying 
to  forget,  but  he  could  not. 

But  Priscilla,  after  leaving  Farwell,  dressed  again 
in  her  plain  serviceable  gown  and  hat,  had  made  her 
way  toward  the  farm.  Her  happy,  light-hearted 
mood  was  past;  she  felt  unaccountably  gloomy,  and 
as  she  walked  on  she  sought  to  explain  herself  to 
herself,  and  presently  Jerry- Jo  came  into  focus  and 
would  not  stir  from  her  contemplation.  Yes,  it 
was  Jerry-Jo's  personality  that  disturbed  her,  and 
3t  was  Farwell's  words  that  had  torn  the  shield  she 
herself  had  erected,  and  set  the  truth  free.  Yes, 
she  had  played  with  Jerry- Jo;  she  had  tested  her 
coquetry  and  charm  upon  him  for  lack  of  better 
material.  In  her  outbreaks  of  youthful  spirits  she 
had  claimed  him  as  prey  because  the  others  of  his 
sex  were  less  desirable.  Jerry-Jo  had  that  subtle, 
physical  attraction  that  responded  to  her  youthful 
allurements,  but  the  young  fellow  himself,  taken 
seriously,  repelled  her,  and  Farwell  had  taken  Jerry- 
Jo  seriously! 

That  was  it!  She  was  no  longer  a  child.  She 
was  a  woman  and  must  remember  it.  Undoubtedly 
Jerry- Jo  himself  had  never  given  the  matter  a  mo- 
ment's deep  thought.  Well,  she  must  take  care 
that  he  never  did.  Jerry-Jo  in  earnest  would  be 
unbearable. 

And  then,  just  as  she  reached  the  pasture  bars 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS     137 

separating  her  father's  farm  from  the  red  rock 
highway,  Jerry-Jo  McAlpin  strode  in  sight  from 
the  wood  path  into  which  the  highway  ran.  She 
waited  for  him  and  gave  him  a  nervous  smile  as 
he  came  near.  His  first  words  startled  her  out  of 
her  dull  mood. 

"I've  been  up  to  the  Hill  Place.  Him  and  her's 
there  for  a  few  days." 

"Him  and  her!"  Priscilla  repeated,  her  face  flush- 
ing. "Oh,  him  and  her!" 

"Sure!"  McAlpin  was  holding  her  with  a  hard, 
fixed  gaze. 

In  the  mesh  that  was  closing  about  Priscilla, 
strangely  enough  names  were  always  largely  elimi- 
nated. They  might  have  altered  her  course  later 
on,  might  have  held  her  to  the  past,  but  Kenmore 
dealt  briefly  with  personalities  and  visualized  what- 
ever it  could.  The  name  Travers  had  rarely,  if  eve^ 
been  spoken  in  Priscilla's  presence.  "The  Hill  Place 
folks"  was  the  title  found  sufficient  for  general  use. 

"And  I  was  remembering,"  Jerry-Jo  went  on, 
"how  once  you  said  you  wanted  to  thank  him  for  — 
for  the  books.  We  might  take  the  canoe,  come  to- 
morrow, and  the  day  is  fine,  and  pay  a  visit." 

Still  Priscilla  did  not  notice  the  gleam  in  McAlpin's 
keen  eyes. 

"Oh!  if  I  only  dared,  Jerry-Jo!  What  an  adven- 
ture it  would  be,  to  be  sure.  And  how  good  of  you 
to  think  of  it." 


138   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"What  hinders?" 

"Father  would  never  forgive  me!" 

"And  are  you  always  to  be  at  the  beck  and  whistle 
of  your  father  even  in  your  pleasures?" 

Priscilla  was  in  just  the  attitude  of  mind  to  re- 
ceive this  suggestion  with  appreciation. 

"There's  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  go  if  I  want 
to,"  she  said  with  an  uplift  of  her  head. 

"And  —  don't  you  want  to?"  Jerry- Jo's  eyes  were 
taking  in  the  loveliness  of  the  raised  face  as  the  set- 
ting sun  fell  upon  it. 

"Yes,  I  do  want  to!     I'll  go,  Jerry- Jo." 

Then  McAlpin  came  close  to  her  and  said  in  a 
low  voice: 

"Priscilla,  give  us  a  kiss  for  pay." 

So  taken  out  of  herself  was  the  girl,  so  overpowered 
by  the  excitement  of  adventure,  that  before  she 
realized  her  part  in  the  small  drama  of  passionate 
youth,  she  gave  a  mocking  laugh  and  twisted  her 
lips  saucily. 

Jerry- Jo  had  her  in  his  arms  on  the  instant,  and  the 
hot  kiss  he  pressed  on  her  mouth  roused  her  to  fury. 

"If  you  ever  touch  me  again,"  she  whispered, 
struggling  into  freedom,  "I'll  hate  you  to  the  last 
day  of  my  life! " 

So  had  she  spoken  to  her  father  years  ago;  so 
would  she  always  speak  when  her  reservations  were 
threatened.  "I  declare  I  am  afraid  to  go  with  you 
to-morrow." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    139 

McAlpin  fell  back  in  shamed  contrition. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid,"  he  muttered.  "I 
reckon  I  was  bidding  you  —  good-bye.  Him  and 
me  is  different.  Once  you  see  him  and  he  sees  you, 
it's  good-bye  to  Jerry- Jo  McAlpin." 

Something  in  the  words  and  tone  of  humility 
brought  Priscilla,  with  a  bound,  back  to  a  kindlier 
mood.  After  all,  it  was  a  tribute  that  McAlpin  was 
payingher.  She  must  hold  him  in  check,  that  was  all. 

They  parted  with  no  great  change.  There  had 
been  a  flurry,  but  it  had  served  to  clear  the  atmos- 
phere —  for  her  at  least. 

But  Nathaniel,  that  evening  in  the  kitchen,  man- 
aged to  arouse  in  the  girl  the  one  state  of  mind 
needed  to  drive  her  on  her  course. 

"What  was  the  meaning  of  that  scuffling  by  the 
bars  a  time  back?"  he  asked,  eyeing  Priscilla  with 
the  old  look  of  suspicious  antagonism.  Every  nerve 
in  the  girl's  body  twitched  with  resentment  and  her 
spirit  flared  forth.  She  shielded  herself  behind  the 
one  flimsy  subterfuge  that  Glenn  could  never  under- 
stand or  tolerate. 

"A  kiss  you  mean.  What's  a  kiss?  You  call 
that  a  scuffle?" 

Theodora,  who  was  washing  the  tea  dishes  while 
Priscilla  wiped  them,  took  her  usual  course  and 
began  to  cry  dispiritedly  and  forlornly. 

"What's  between  you  and  —  McAlpin?"  Na- 
thaniel asked,  scowling  darkly. 


i4o  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Between  us?  What  need  for  anything  between 
us?" 

Priscilla  ceased  smiling  and  looked  defiant. 

"Maybe  you  better  marry  that  half-breed  and 
have  done  with  it." 

"It's  more  like  —  would  he  marry  me?" 

This  was  unfortunate. 

"And  why  not?"  Nathaniel  shook  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe  angrily.  "A  little  more  such  perform- 
ance as  I  saw  to-day  and  no  decent  man  will  marry 
you!  As  for  Jerry-Jo,  he'll  marry  you  if  I  say  so! 
You  foul  my  nest,  miss,  and  out  you  go!" 

"Husband!  husband!"  And  with  this  Theodora 
dropped  a  cup,  one  of  Glenn's  mother's  cups,  and 
somehow  this  added  fire  to  his  fury. 

"And  when  the  time  comes,  wife,  you  make  your 
choice:  Go  with  her,  who  you  have  trained  into 
what  she  is,  or  stay  with  me  who  has  been  defied  in 
his  own  home,  by  them  nearest  and  closest  to  him." 

Priscilla  breathed  fast  and  hard.  The  tangible 
wall  of  misunderstanding  between  her  and  her  father 
stifled  her  to-night  as  it  never  had  before.  Again 
she  realized  the  finality  of  something  —  the  break- 
ing of  the  old  ties,  the  helpless  sense  of  groping  for 
what  lay  hidden,  but  none  the  less  real,  just  on 
before. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  next  day  was  gloriously  clear  and  threat- 
eningly warm.  Such  days  do  not  come  to 
Kenmore  in  September  except  to  lure  the 
unheeding  to  acts  of  folly.  And  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  Priscilla,  from  the  kitchen  door,  saw 
Jerry-Jo  paddling  his  canoe  in  still,  Indian  fashion 
around  Lone  Tree  Island.  Theodora  was  off  er- 
randing,  and  Nathaniel,  as  far  as  human  knowledge 
went,  was  in  some  distant  field;  he  had  started  off 
directly  after  dinner.  Priscilla  was  ready  for  her 
adventure.  With  the  natural  desire  of  youth,  she 
had  decked  herself  out  in  her  modest  finery  —  a 
stiffly  starched  white  gown  of  a  cheap  but  pretty 
design,  a  fluff  of  soft  lace  at  throat  and  wrist,  and, 
over  it,  the  old  red  cape  that  years  before  had  added 
to  her  appearance  as  she  danced  on  the  rocks. 
Perhaps  remembering  that,  she  had  utilized  the 
garment  and  was  thankful  that  cloth  lasted  so  long 
in  Kenmore! 

The  coquetry  of  girlhood  rose  happily  in  Priscilla's 
heart.  Jerry-Jo  had  become  again  simply  a  link 
in  her  chain  of  events;  he  had  lost  the  importance 
the  flash  of  the  evening  before  had  given  him;  he 


142    THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

was  not  forgiven,  but  for  the  time  he  was,  as  a  human 
being,  forgotten.  He  was  Jerry-Jo  who  was  to 
paddle  her  to  her  Heart's  Desire!  That  was  it, 
and  the  old  words,  set  to  music  of  her  own,  were  the 
signals  used  to  attract  McAlpin's  attention.  But 
the  merry  call  brought  Glenn  from  out  the  barn  just 
as  the  canoe  touched  the  rocks  lightly,  and  Priscilla 
prepared  to  step  in. 

"Where  you  two  going?"  he  shouted  in  the  tone 
that  always  roused  the  worst  in  Priscilla's  nature. 
Jerry-Jo  paused,  paddle  in  air,  but  his  companion 
whispered: 

"Goon!"  To  Nathaniel  she  flung  back:  "WVre 
going  to  have  a  bit  of  fun,  and  why  not,  father? 
I'm  tired  of  staying  at  home." 

This  was  unfortunate:  on  the  home  question 
Glenn  was  very  clear  and  decided. 

"Come  back!"  he  ordered,  but  the  little  canoe 
had  shot  out  into  the  Channel.  "  Hi,  there  McAlpin, 
do  you  hear?" 

"  Go  on!  "  again  whispered  Priscilla,  and  Jerry- Jo 
heard  only  her  soft  command,  for  his  senses  were 
filled  with  the  loveliness  of  her  charming,  defiant 
face  set  under  the  broad  brim  of  a  hat  around  which 
was  twined  a  wreath  of  natural  flowers  as  blue  as 
the  girl's  laughing  eyes. 

Nathaniel,  defied  and  helpless,  stood  by  the  barn 
door  and  impotently  fumed  as  the  canoe  rounded  Lone 
Tree  Island  and  was  lost  to  his  infuriated  sight. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    143 

"You'll  catch  it,"  Jerry-Jo  comforted  when  pur- 
suit was  impossible,  and  he  had  the  responsibility  of 
the  rebel  on  his  hands.  "I  wouldn't  be  in  your 
place,  and  you  need  not  drag  me  in,  for  I'd  have 
turned  back  had  you  said  the  word." 

A  fleeting  contempt  stirred  the  beauty  of  the  girl's 
face  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  told  him  of  that 
which  was  seething  in  her  heart. 

"What  does  it  matter,  Jerry- Jo?  All  my  life, 
ever  since  I  can  remember,  I  have  been  growing 
surely  to  what  is  now  near  at  hand.  I  cannot  abide 
my  father;  nor  can  he  find  comfort  in  me.  Why 
should  I  darken  the  lives  of  my  parents  and  have 
no  life  of  my  own  ?  The  lure  of  the  States  has  always 
been  in  my  thought  and  now  it  calls  near  and  loud." 

McAlpin  stared  helplessly  at  her,  and  her  beauty, 
enhanced  by  her  unusual  garments,  moved  him 
unwholesomely. 

"What  you  mean?"  he  muttered. 

"Only  this:  It  would  be  no  strange  thing  did  a 
boy  start  for  the  States.  A  little  money,  a  ticket 
on  a  steamer,  and  —  pouf !  Off  the  boys  and  men 
go  to  make  their  lives.  Well,  then,  some  day  you 
will  —  find  me  gone,  Jerry-Jo.  Gone  to  make  my 
life.  Will  you  miss  me?" 

This  question  caused  McAlpin  to  stop  paddling. 

"You  won't  be  —  let!"  he  murmured;  "you  —  a 
girl!" 

"I,  a  girl!"  Priscilla  laughed  scornfully.     "You 


i44  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

will  see.  This  day,  after  I  have  thanked  him  up 
yonder,  I  am  going  to  ask  his  mother  to  help  me  get 
away.  Surely  a  lady  such  as  she  could  help  me.  I 
will  not  ask  much  of  her,  only  the  guiding  hand  to  a 
safe  place  where  I  can  —  live!  Oh!  can  you  under- 
stand how  all  my  life  I  have  been  smothered  and 
stifled?  I  often  wonder  what  sort  I  will  be  —  out 
there!  I'm  willing  to  suffer  while  I  learn,  but  Jerry 
Jo"  —  and  here  the  excited  voice  paused  -  "I 
have  a  strange  feeling  of — myself!  I  sometimes 
feel  as  if  there  were  two  of  me,  the  one  holding, 
demanding,  and  protecting  the  other.  I  will  not 
have  men  always  making  my  life  and  shielding  me; 
the  woman  of  me  will  have  its  way.  Men  and  boys 
never  know  this  feeling." 

And  Jerry-Jo  could,  of  course,  understand  nothing 
of  this,  but  the  thing  he  had  set  out  to  do,  more  in 
rude,  brutish  fun  than  anything  else,  assumed  graver 
purpose.  A  new  and  ugly  look  grew  in  his  bold 
eyes,  a  sinister  smile  on  his  red  mouth,  which  showed 
the  points  of  his  white,  fang-like  teeth.  But  Pris- 
cilla,  too  absorbed  with  her  own  thoughts,  did  not 
notice. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  the  canoe  touched  the 
landing  spot  of  Far  Hill  Place,  and  Priscilla  sprang 
out. 

"I'll  bide  here;  don't  be  long,"  said  McAlpin. 

But  Priscilla  paused  and  glanced  up  at  the  sky. 

"It's  darkening,"  she  faltered,  a  shyness  over- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    145 

coming  her.  "  I  smell  —  thunder.  Don't  you  think 
you  better  come  up  with  me  Jerry-Jo  ?  Suppose  they 
are  not  at  home?" 

''They'll  be  back  soon  in  that  case,  and  as  for  a 
shower,  that  would  hasten  them  and  you  would  be 
under  shelter.  I  can  turn  the  canoe  over  me  and 
be  dry  as  a  mouse  in  a  hayrick.  I'll  not  go  with 
you,  not  I.  Do  your  own  part,  with  them  looking 
on  as  will  enjoy  it." 

"I  believe  you  are  —  jealous,  Jerry-Jo."  This 
was  said  idly  and  more  to  fill  in  an  awkward  pause 
than  for  anything  else. 

"And  much  good  that  would  do  me,  after  what 
you've  just  said.  If  you're  bound  for  the  devil, 
Priscilla,  'tis  little  power  I  have  to  stay  you." 

"I'm  not  —  for  the  devil!"  Priscilla  flung  back, 
and  started  sturdily  up  the  hill  path  toward  the 
house  hidden  among  the  trees. 

Out  of  McAlpin's  sight,  the  girl  went  more  slowly, 
while  she  sought  to  arrange  her  mode  of  attack.  If 
her  host  were  what  he  once  was,  he  would  make  every- 
thing easy  after  she  recalled  herself  to  him.  As  for 
the  mother,  Priscilla  had  only  a  dim  memory  of  her, 
but  something  told  her  that  the  call  would  be  a 
happy  and  memorable  one  after  the  first  moment. 

A  bit  of  tune  cheered  the  girl;  a  repeating  of  the 
Road  Song  helped  even  more,  for  it  resurrected  most 
vividly  the  young  fellow  who  had  introduced  music 
and  happiness  into  her  life. 


146  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"I'll  be  doshed!"  she  cried.  The  word  had  not 
passed  her  lips  for  years;  it  brought  a  laugh  and  a 
complete  restoration  of  poise.  So  she  reached  the 
house.  Smoke  was  issuing  from  the  chimney.  A 
fire  had  been  made  even  on  this  hot  day,  but  like 
enough  it  was  to  dry  the  place  after  the  years  of 
closed  doors  and  windows.  Evidently  it  was  a 
many-houred  fire,  for  the  plume  of  smoke  was  faint 
and  steady.  The  broad  door  was  set  wide  but  the 
windows  were  still  boarded  up  at  the  front  of  the 
house,  though  the  side  ones  had  escaped  that  pro- 
tection. 

Priscilla  knocked  and  waited.  No  reply  or  sound 
came  in  response,  and  presently  a  low  muttering  of 
distant  thunder  broke. 

"That  will  bring  them  in  short  order,"  she  said, 
"and  surely  they  will  not  object  if  I  make  myself 
comfortable  until  they  come." 

She  went  inside.  The  room  had  the  appearance 
of  one  from  which  the  owner  had  long  been  absent, 
that  unaccountable,  vacant  look,  although  a  work- 
bag  hung  on  the  back  of  a  chair  by  the  roaring  fire, 
and  a  blot  of  oil  lay  on  the  table  near  the  lamp  which 
had  evidently  been  recently  filled.  Back  of  these 
tokens  lay  a  wide  sense  of  desolation. 

For  a  moment  Priscilla  hesitated  before  sitting 
down;  her  courage  failed,  but  a  second  thought  re- 
conciled conditions  with  a  brief  stay  after  long  ab- 
sence, and  she  decided  to  wait. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    147 

And  while  she  waited,  suddenly  and  alarmingly, 
the  storm  burst!  The  darkness  of  the  room  and  the 
wooded  space  outside  had  deceived  her:  there  was  no 
escape  now! 

She  was  concerned  for  the  people  she  had  come 
to  see.  Jerry-Jo,  she  knew,  would  crawl  under  his 
boat  and  be  as  dry  as  a  tortoise  in  its  shell.  But 
those  others! 

With  this  thought  she  set  about,  mechanically, 
making  the  room  comfortable.  She  piled  on  fresh 
wood  and  noticed  that  it  was  so  wet  that  it  sputtered 
dangerously.  Presently  the  wind  changed  sharply, 
and  a  blast  of  almost  icy  coldness  carried  the  driving 
rain  halfway  across  the  floor. 

It  was  something  of  a  struggle  to  close  the  heavy 
door,  for  it  opened  outward,  and  Priscilla  was 
drenched  by  the  time  it  was  made  secure.  Breathing 
hard,  she  made  her  way  to  the  fire  and  knelt  before 
it.  The  glow  drew  her  attention  from  the  darkness 
of  the  space  back  and  around  her. 

It  was  unfortunate  and  depressing,  and  she  had  no 
choice  but  to  make  herself  as  comfortable  as  she 
might,  though  a  sense  of  painful  uneasiness  grew 
momentarily.  At  first  she  imagined  it  was  fear  of 
what  she  must  encounter  upon  her  return  home; 
then  she  felt  sure  it  was  her  dread  of  meeting  the 
people  for  whom  she  had  risked  so  much.  Finally 
Jerry-Jo  loomed  in  the  foreground  of  her  thought  and 
an  entirely  new  terror  was  born  in  her  soul. 


148   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Jerry-Jo!"  she  laughed  aloud  as  his  name  passed 
her  lips.  "Jerry-Jo,  to  be  sure.  My!  how  thankful 
I'd  be  to  see  him  this  instant!" 

And  with  the  assertion  she  turned  shudderingly 
toward  the  door.  The  gloom  behind  her  only  em- 
phasized her  nervousness. 

"I'll  —  I'll  have  to  go!"  she  whispered  suddenly, 
while  the  wind  and  the  slashing  of  sleety  rain  de- 
fied her.  "It  will  be  better  out  of  doors,  bad  as 
it  is!" 

The  grim  loneliness  of  four  walls,  compared  with 
the  dangers  of  the  open,  was  worse.  But  when 
Priscilla,  trembling  and  panting,  reached  the  door 
and  pushed,  she  found  that  the  storm  was  pitting 
its  strength  against  hers  and  she  could  not  budge  it. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  half  sobbed;  "if  I  must,  I  must." 
And  she  stealthily  tiptoed  back  to  the  warmth  and 
light  as  if  fearing  to  arouse  something,  she  knew  not 
what,  in  the  dim  place. 

There  was  no  way  of  estimating  time.  The 
minutes  were  like  hours  and  the  hours  were  like 
minutes  while  Priscilla  sat  alone.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  was  after  seven  when  steps,  unmistakable 
steps,  sounded  on  the  porch  and  carried  both  appre- 
hension and  relief  to  the  storm-bound  prisoner 
inside. 

"Thank  heaven!"  breathed  she,  and  sprang  to  her 
feet.  She  was  midway  in  the  room  when  the  door 
opened,  and,  as  if  flayed  forward  by  the  lashing  storm, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    149 

Jerry-Jo  broke  into  the  shadow  and  drew  the  heavy 
oak  door  after  him.  In  a  black  panic  of  fear  Pris- 
cilla  saw  him  turn  the  key  in  the  lock  before  he  spoke 
a  word  to  her;  then  he  came  forward,  flung  his  wet 
cap  toward  the  hearth,  and  laughed. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked  quickly  as 
Priscilla's  white  face  confronted  him.  "Disap- 
pointed, I  suppose.  Do  you  begrudge  me  a  bit  of 
warmth  and  shelter?  God  knows  I'm  drenched  to 
the  bone.  The  rain  came  up  from  the  earth  as  well 
as  down  from  the  clouds.  It's  a  devil's  storm  and 
no  mistake.  What  you  staring  at,  Priscilla?  Had 
you  forgotten  me?  Thought  me  dead,  and  now 
you're  looking  at  my  ghost?  Didn't  I  wait  long 
enough  for  you?  Where  are  the  —  others?" 

This  seemed  to  clarify  and  steady  the  situation 
and  Priscilla  gave  a  slight  laugh: 

"To  be  sure.  You  did  not  know.  They  —  they 
were  away.  The  storm  came  up  suddenly.  I  had  to 
wait.  You  are  wet  through  and  through,  Jerry- Jo. 
It's  good  we  have  such  a  fire.  You'll  be  comfortable 
in  a  moment.  I'm  glad  you  came;  I  was  getting  — 
afraid." 

"Let's  see  if  there  is  any  oil  in  the  lamp!"  Jerry-Jo 
exclaimed.  He  was  in  no  mood  for  darkness  himself. 

"They  must  have  filled  it  before  they  went," 
Priscilla  answered.  "See,  there  is  some  oil  on  the 
table." 

McAlpin  struck  a  match  and  soon  the  room  was 


ISO  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

flooded  with  a  new  brightness  that  reached  even  to 
the  far  corners  and  seemed  to  set  free  the  real  lone- 
liness that  held  these  two  together. 

"I  —  I  managed  to  keep  this  dry,"  McAlpin  spoke 
huskily.  "I  always  have  a  bite  with  me  when  I  take 
to  the  woods.  Who  can  ever  tell  what  may  happen !  " 

He  pushed  a  coarse  sandwich  toward  Priscilla  and 
began  eating  one  himself. 

"Go  on!  "he  said. 

"I'm  not  hungry,  Jerry-Jo,  and  I  want  to  start 
back  home  at  once." 

Jerry-Jo  leered  at  her  over  his  bread  and  meat. 

"What's  your  hurry?  I  want  to  get  warm  and 
dry  before  I  set  out  again.  This  is  an  all-nighter  of 
a  storm,  if  I  know  anything  about  it." 

"Get  dry,  of  course,  Jerry-Jo.  It  won't  take  long 
with  this  heat;  then  we  must  start,  storm  or  no 
storm." 

The  old  discomfort  and  unrest  returned,  and  she 
fixed  her  eyes  on  Jerry-Jo. 

"There's  no  great  hurry,"  said  he,  munching 
away.  "It's  warm  here  and  cozy.  What's  got 
you,  Priscilla  ?  You  was  mighty  keen  to  come,  and 
you  ain't  finished  your  errand  yet.  What's  ailing 
you?  No  one  could  help  the  storm,  and  we'd  be 
swamped  in  the  bay  if  we  was  there  now." 

Priscilla  got  up  and  walked  slowly  toward  the 
door,  but  without  any  apparent  reason  Jerry-Jo 
arose  also,  and,  still  chewing  his  bread  and  meat, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    151 

backed  away  from  the  table,  keeping  himself  be- 
tween the  girl  and  whatever  her  object  was.  No- 
ticing this,  a  real  terror  seized  upon  Priscilla  and  she 
darted  in  the  opposite  direction,  reached  the  hearth, 
and  was  bending  toward  a  heavy  poker  which  lay 
there,  before  she  herself  could  have  explained  her 
motive.  Jerry- Jo  was  alert.  Tossing  his  food  upon 
the  table  as  he  strode  forward,  he  gripped  her  wrist. 

"None  of  that!"  he  muttered.  "What  ails  you, 
Priscilla?"  They  faced  each  other  at  close  range. 

"I  —  I  am  afraid  of  you!" 

At  this  McAlpin  threw  back  his  head  and  roared 
with  laughter,  releasing  her  at  the  same  time.  With 
freedom  Priscilla  gained  a  bit  of  courage  and  a  keen 
sense  of  the  necessity  of  calmness.  She  did  not 
move  away  from  Jerry- Jo,  but  fixing  him  with  her 
wide  eyes  she  asked: 

"Are  —  are  the  —  family  here  —  here  in  Ken- 
more?"  Suspicion  and  anger  shook  the  voice.  The 
slow,  tense  words  brought  things  down  to  fact. 

"No!     God  knows  where  they  are!     I  don't  know 


or  care." 


Brought  face  to  face  with  great  danger,  mental  or 
physical,  the  majority  of  people  rise  to  the  call. 
Priscilla  knew  now  that  she  was  in  grave  peril  — 
peril  of  a  deeper  kind  than  even  her  tormentor  could 
realize.  Every  nerve  and  emotion  came  to  her 
defence.  She  would  hold  this  creature  at  bay  as 
hunters  hold  the  wild  things  of  the  woods  when  gun 


1 52   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

or  club  fail.  Then,  after  that,  she  would  have  to 
deal  with  what  must  inevitably  confront  her  at 
home.  She  seemed  to  be  standing  alone  amid  cruel 
and  unfamiliar  foes,  but  she  was  calm! 

"You  lied,  then?    What  for?" 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"You  believe,  by  shutting  me  away  from  every- 
thing, every  one,  you  can  win  what  otherwise  you 
could  not  get?"  It  all  seemed  cruelly  plain,  now. 
She  felt  she  had  always  known  it. 

"Something  like  that,  yes.     You'll  come  to  me 
fast  enough,  after  to-night.     Once  you  come  I'll  - 
I'll  do  the  fair  and  square  thing  by  you,  Priscilla." 

The  half-pleading  caught  the  girl's  thought. 

"You  mean,  by  this  device  you  will  make  me 
marry  you?  You'll  blacken  my  name,  bar  my 
father's  house  to  me,  and  then  you  will  be  generous 
and  —  marry  me?" 

Jerry-Jo  dropped  his  bold,  dark  eyes. 

"  I  never  cared  for  you,  Jerry- Jo.    I  hate  you,  now! " 

At  this  McAlpin  raised  his  head  and  a  fierce  red 
coloured  his  face. 

"You'll  get  over  that!"  he  muttered.     "Any  port 
in  a  storm,  you  know.     You  better  not  drive  me 
now!     I  ain't  —  safe,  and  I've  got  you  tight  for - 
to-night!" 

Suddenly  the  pure  flame  of  spirituality  flashed  into 
the  soul  of  Priscilla  Glenn.  Alone,  undefended, 
facing  a  hideous  possibility,  beyond  which  lay  a 


You  mean,  by  this  device  you  will  make  me  marry  you? 
You'll  blacken  my  name,  bar  my  father's  house  to  me, 
and  then  you  will  be  generous  and  —  marry  me?' " 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    153 

black  certainty  of  desolation,  she  rose  supreme  to 
protect  something  that  her  rudely  aroused  woman- 
hood must  defend,  even  by  death ! 

"You  —  beast!"  she  cried,  and  all  her  shrinking 
fear  fell  from  her.  "Go  back!  Sit  down!  I  have 

something  to  say  to  you  —  before "  She  did 

not  finish,  but  the  pause  made  Jerry- Jo  understand 
that  she  recognized  her  position. 

"I'll  stand  here,  by  God!"  he  almost  shouted,  and 
came  close. 

The  proximity  of  the  rough,  coarse  body  was  the 
one  thing  the  girl  felt  she  could  not  bear.  She 
smelled  the  odour  of  his  wet  clothing,  felt  his  breath, 
and  she  shrank  back  a  step. 

"This  —  this  body,  Jerry- Jo  McAlpin,"  she  whis- 
pered, "is  all  you  can  touch.  That,  I  will  kill  to- 
morrow —  the  next  day  —  it  does  not  matter.  But 
the  soul  of  me  shall  haunt  you  while  you  live.  Night 
and  day  it  shall  torment  and  clutch  you  until  it 
brings  your  sinful  spirit  to  —  to  God!" 

"You  —  you  devil!"  cried  McAlpin,  all  the  su- 
perstitious fear  of  his  mixed  blood  chilling  him. 

"You "  And  then  as  if  daring  the  fate  she 

had  it  in  her  power  to  evoke,  he  rushed  toward  her 
and  clasped  her  close  in  his  strong  arms.  His  face 
was  bent  over  hers,  his  lips  parted  from  his  cruel 
teeth,  but  he  did  not  force  them  upon  her. 

So  here  she  was  —  she,  Priscilla  Glenn,  in  the 
jaws  of  death,  she  who  would  have  laughed,  danced, 


and  sang  her  way  straight  into  happiness!  Here 
she  was,  with  what  on  ahead  —  if  she  lived? 

She  waited,  she  struggled,  then  she  relaxed  in  the 
iron  hold,  and  for  a  moment,  only  a  moment,  lost 
the  sense  of  reality.  Presently  words  that  McAlpin 
was  saying  came  to  her  in  the  black  stillness  of  her 
consciousness. 

"I  had  —  to  have  you!  Now  that  I've  shown 
you  my  power,  I  can  wait  until  you  come  whining 
to  me.  I  ain't  going  to  hurt  you!  I  want  you  as 
you  are  when. you  come  a-begging  of  me.  I  only 
wanted  to  prove  to  you  that  —  I've  got  you!" 

Again  Priscilla  was  aware  of  the  red  warmth  of 
the  fire,  the  sickening  smell  of  drying  wool,  the 
loosening  of  the  bands  of  McAlpin's  arms. 

"You  —  you  who  boast  that  when  you  hunt,  out 
of  season,  you  shoot  one  shot  in  the  air  in  order  to 
give  a  poor  wild  thing  a  chance  of  escape  —  you 
bring  me  here  with  a  lie;  close  every  hope  to  me, 
and  —  call  that  —  victory!  You  —  you  —  fiend! 
What  do  you  mean?" 

She  was  standing  free  at  last!  She  was  so  weak 
that  she  staggered  to  a  chair,  fearing  that  McAlpin, 
seeing  her  need,  might  again  lay  hands  upon  her. 

"I  mean  —  that  I've  fired  my  shot!"  Her  words 
had  caught  his  fancy.  "You  have  your  chance  to 
—  to  get  away!  But  where?  Where?" 

The  dark  face  leered. 

"See!    I'm  going  to  leave  you.    Go  out  into  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    155 

night.  You  can  try  for  your  —  your  life,  but  in 
the  end  you'll  come  to  me.  I  don't  care  what  they 
of  Kenmore  will  say,  I'll  know  you  are  —  what  you 
are,  and  sympathy  will  be  with  me,  gal,  when  I 
take  you.  And  you'll  know,  once  you  come  to  me, 
proper  and  asking,  I'll  do  —  I'll  do  the  best  any 
man  could  do  —  for  —  I  love  you!" 

This  was  flung  out  desperately,  defiantly. 

"Yes,  I  love  you  as --Jerry- Jo  McAlpin  knows 
how  to  love.  It's  his  way.  Remember  that!" 

Not  a  word  rose  to  Priscilla's  lips.  She  saw 
McAlpin  turn  and  stride  to  the  door;  she  heard 
him  turn  the  key  and  —  she  was  alone!  But  a 
strange  thing  happened  just  at  that  moment,  a 
thing  that  did  more  to  unnerve  the  girl  than  any- 
thing that  had  gone  before.  As  the  heavy  oak 
door  slammed  after  the  retreating  figure,  the  jar 
caused  the  tall  clock,  back  among  the  shadows  of 
the  far  side  of  the  room,  to  strike!  One,  two,  three! 
Then  followed  a  whirring  that  faded  into  deathly 
silence.  It  was  like  the  voice  of  one,  believed  to  be 
dead,  speaking! 

Frightened,  but  thoroughly  roused  to  her  only 
hope,  Priscilla  staggered  to  the  door,  clutched  the 
key  in  cold,  trembling  fingers,  and  turned  it  in  the 
lock.  Then,  sinking  upon  her  knees,  she  crept 
back  to  the  fire,  keeping  close  to  the  wall.  If  an 
eye  were  pressed  to  a  knothole  in  the  shutter  it 
could  not  follow  her. 


CHAPTER  X 

PRISCILLA  kept  the  fire  alive.  She  laid  the 
sticks  and  logs  on  cautiously;  she  turned 
wide  eyes  now  and  again  on  the  tall  clock 
whose  white  face  gleamed  pallidly  among  the  shad- 
ows like  a  dead  thing  that  had  used  its  last  breath 
to  speak  a  message.  If  the  clock  struck  again 
Priscilla  felt  that  she  might  go  mad. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Nature  laid  a  com- 
manding and  relentless  touch  upon  the  girl,  and, 
crouching  by  the  hearth,  her  head  in  her  arms  folded 
upon  a  chair,  she  slept. 

Outside  the  storm  sobbed  itself  into  silence;  the 
rain  dripped  complainingly  from  the  roof  of  the 
porch  and  then  ceased.  At  five  o'clock  the  new 
day,  rosy  and  full  of  cheer,  made  itself  felt  in  the 
dim  room  where  Priscilla,  breathing  evenly  and 
softly,  still  slept.  No  gleam  of  brightness  made 
its  way  through  the  heavy  shutters  or  curtains,  but 
a  consciousness  of  day  at  last  roused  the  sleeper. 
At  first  the  experience  through  which  she  had  passed 
made  no  demand  upon  her.  She  got  painfully  upon 
her  feet  and  looked  about.  The  fire  was  but  em- 
bers, the  air  was  hot  and  stifling,  and  then,  with 

156 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    157 

the  thought  of  opening  a  door  or  window,  the  grim 
spectre  of  the  black  hours  lay  warning  touch  upon 
her.  She  shrank  back  and  began  again  to  —  wait! 
Of  course  McAlpin  would  return  —  and  what  lay 
before  her  when  he  did?  Her  strength  was  spent, 

lack  of  food And  here  her  eyes  fell  on  the 

broken  fragments  of  stale  bread  and  meat  that 
Jerry-Jo  had  tossed  aside. 

She  took  the  morsels  and  devoured  them  eagerly; 
the  nerves  of  the  stomach  were  calling  for  nutrition, 
and  even  the  coarse  crumbs  gave  relief. 

The  moments  passed  slowly,  but  presently,  with 
the  knowledge  that  day  lay  beyond  her  prison,  she 
gained  a  new,  a  more  desperate  courage.  If  she 
must  die,  she  would  die  in  the  open,  where  she  at 
least  might  test  her  pitiful  strength  against  Jerry- 
Jo's  did  he  pursue  her.  The  determination  to  act 
gave  relief.  The  dark,  damp  room  she  could  no 
longer  bear;  the  lamp  had  hours  before  ceased  to 
burn;  the  smell  of  stale  oil  smoke  was  sickening. 
No  matter  what  happened  she  felt  she  must  make  a 
break  for  freedom.  She  knew  full  well  that  should 
Jerry- Jo  enter  now  she  could  not  combat  him. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  she  wondered  why  no 
one  had  come  to  seek  her  through  the  long,  black 
hours  of  the  night.  The  men  of  Kenmore  never 
permitted  a  wanderer  to  remain  unsought;  there  was 
danger.  Why,  even  her  father  could  not  be  so  — 
so  hard  as  to  sleep  undisturbed  while  she  was  un- 


158   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

housed!  And  her  mother?  Oh!  surely  her  mother 
would  have  roused  the  people!  And  Anton  Far- 
well?  Why,  he  would  have  started  at  once,  as  he 
had  for  the  McAdam  boys.  And  with  that  con- 
clusion came  a  new  hope: 

"If  they  are  searching  it  will  be  on  the  water!" 

Of  course.  Cheered  by  this  thought,  Priscilla 
made  her  way  silently  toward  the  door.  With 
trembling  fingers  she  turned  the  key  and  pushed 
gently  outward.  Through  the  crack  the  sun  poured, 
and  oh,  the  fresh  sweetness  of  the  morning  air! 
Again  she  pushed,  once  again,  and  then  with  a  rush 
she  dashed  through  and  was  a  hundred  feet  down  the 
path  when  a  loud  laugh  stayed  her  like  a  shot  from 
a  gun. 

She  turned  and  braced  herself  against  a  tree  for 
support.  Jerry- Jo,  pressed  close  to  the  house  and 
not  a  foot  from  the  door  through  which  she  had 
come,  again  shrieked  with  laughter.  Presently  he 
conquered  himself,  and,  without  moving,  said: 

"You're  free!  The  canoe's  ready  for  you,  too. 
Go  home  —  if  you  want  —  go  home  and  get  what's 
coming  to  you!  I've  been  busy.  There's  a  boat 
stopping  at  the  wharf  to-night.  I'm  leaving  for 
the  States.  I've  told  them,  as  will  pass  it  on,  that 
you  and  me  are  going  together.  I'll  stand  by  it,  too, 
God  hears  me!" 

"My  —  my  father  will  kill  you  when  he  knows  of 
this  night!" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    159 

Priscilla  flung  the  words  back  savagely.  She 
knew  now  that  she  was  free  —  free  for  what?  Again 
Jerry- Jo's  laugh  taunted  her,  and  as  she  turned  to 
the  path  her  father  faded  from  her  hope.  Only 
Anton  Farwell  seemed  to  loom  high.  Just  and 
resourceful,  he  would  help  her! 

The  soggy,  mossy  path  made  heavy  travelling 
for  weary,  nervous  feet,  but  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
Priscilla  saw  the  little  canoe  bobbing  at  the  side  of 
the  dock.  Once  out  upon  the  sunlit  water  the  soul- 
horror  disappeared  and  the  task  before  her  ap- 
peared easy.  Now  that  the  real  danger  was  past,  her 
physical  demands  seemed  simple  and  well  within 
her  control.  If  her  father  turned  her  away  —  and 
as  she  drew  near  to  Lonely  Farm  she  felt  that  he 
probably  would  —  she  would  go  to  Farwell,  and 
from  him,  with  his  assistance,  go  to  the  States.  The 
time  had  come  —  that  was  all  —  the  time  had  come.1 
She  was  as  ready  as  she  ever  would  be.  She  had 
herself  well  in  hand  before  she  stepped  from  the 
canoe  at  the  foot  of  her  father's  garden. 

The  only  signs  of  anxiety  in  evidence  about  the 
house  were  Nathaniel's  presence  in  the  kitchen  at 
eleven  in  the  morning,  and  Theodora's  red  and 
swollen  eyes  as  she  bent  over  the  dishwashing  of  a 
belated  breakfast. 

"Mother!     Father!" 

They  turned  and  gazed  at  the  pale,  dishevelled  girl 
in  the  doorway.  Neither  spoke  and  Priscilla  asked. 


160  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"May  I  come  in?" 

Had  she  wept,  or  flung  herself  upon  their  mercy, 
Nathaniel  could  have  understood,  but  her  very 
calmness  and  indifference  angered  him,  coming  as 
it  did  upon  his  real  anxiety.  He  had  not  heard  the 
village  gossip  that  Long  Jean  had  already  started. 
He  had  been  out  alone  most  of  the  night  on  the 
water,  and  the  relief  of  seeing  his  girl  alive  and  un- 
harmed turned  his  earlier  emotions  to  bitterness. 

"Yes,  come  in,"  he  said  sternly.  "Where  have 
you  been  ? " 

Had  Priscilla  been  given  more  time,  had  she  been 
less  physically  spent,  she  would  have  protected  her- 
self from  her  father's  thought;  as  it  was  she  could 
only  summon  enough  strength  to  parry  his  questions 
with  truthful  answers,  and  until  it  was  too  late  she 
did  not  realize  how  they  damned  her. 

"Up  at  —  at  —  Far  Hill  Place." 

"All  night?" 

"Yes." 

"With " 

"With  —  with  Jerry- Jo  McAlpin." 

"Oh!"     This  came  like  a  snake's  warning. 

"The  —  the  storm  was  —  oh !  Father " 

"The  storm!"  roared  Nathaniel;  "the  storm) 
Are  you  sugar  or  salt?  Have  you  so  little  morality 
that  you  choose  to  stay  overnight  with  a  man  in  a 
lonely  house  instead  of  coming  wet  but  clean- 
charactered  to  your  safe  home?" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    161 

And  then  Priscilla  understood!  She  had  come 
into  the  room  and  was  sitting  near  the  door  she  had 
closed  behind  her.  She,  on  the  sudden,  seemed  to 
grow  old  and  strong;  the  ancient  distrust  and  dislike 
of  her  father  overcame  her;  she  looked  at  her  mother, 
bent  and  sobbing  over  the  sink,  and  only  for  her 
sake  did  she  continue  the  useless  conversation. 

"You  —  you  judge  me  unheard!"  she  went  on, 
addressing  Nathaniel  with  an  anger,  glowing  in  her 
eyes,  that  equalled  his  own. 

"Have  you  not  just  incriminated  yourself  — 
you!" 

"Stop!  Do  you  think  that  is  all?  Do  you  think 

I  would  have  stayed  there  —  if — if "  Here 

the  memory  of  what  she  had  endured  choked  her. 

"A  woman  who  puts  herself  in  a  man's  power 
as  you  have  can  expect  no  mercy."  Nathaniel 
stormed. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  it  is  God's  law.  All  decent  women  know 
it.  That  is  what  I've  feared  for  you  always,  but 
I'll  still  stand  by  you  if  you  show  reason.  I'll  do 
it  for  your  mother's  sake  and  my  good  name.  He 
shall  marry  you,  by  God!  Say  the  word  and  I'll 
bring  him  here." 

Priscilla's  upper  lip  twitched.  This  was  a  trick 
her  nerves  had  of  warning  her,  but  she  heeded  not. 

"You  —  you  would  force  me  to  marry  Jerry- Jo 
even  against  his  will?  You  would  make  that  little 


hell  for  me  without  even  knowing  what  has  happened  ? 
You'd  fling  me  in  it  to  —  to  save  your  name?" 

"You've  made  your  own  hell!  No  matter  what 
has  happened,  there  is  only  one  way  out  for  you. 
If  you  refuse  that  —  And  here  Nathaniel 

flung  his  big  arms  wide,  as  if  pushing  his  child  out  — 
out! 

With  white  face  but  blazing  eyes  Priscilla  got  up 
and  went  over  to  her  mother.  She  drew  the  bowed 
and  quivering  form  toward  her  and  looked  straight 
into  the  tear-flooded  eyes. 

"Mother,  tell  me,  do  you  believe  me  —  dis- 
honoured ? " 

The  contact  of  the  dear,  strong  young  body  gave 
Theodora  power  to  say: 

"Oh!  my  dear,  my  dear,  I  cannot,  I  will  not  believe 
evil  of  you.  But  you  must  do  what  your  father 
thinks  best;  it  is  the  only  way.  You  have  been  so 
heedless,  my  child,  my  poor  child." 

"You  —  side  with  her?"  thundered  Nathaniel, 
feeling  himself  defied.  "Then  heed  me!  If  she 
refuses,  out  you  go  with  her!  No  longer  will  I  live 
with  my  family  divided  against  me.  The  world 
with  her,  or  the  home  with  me!" 

Then  suddenly  and  quite  clearly  Priscilla  saw  the 
only  way  open  to  her,  the  only  way  that  led  to  even 
the  poor  peace  she  yearned  to  leave  to  the  sad, 
little,  clinging,  broken  creature  looking  piteously 
up  at  her. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    163 

"My  child,  my  child,  your  father  knows  best." 

"There !  there  mother.     Now  listen ! " 

Still  holding  Theodora,  she  looked  over  the  gray 
head  at  her  father's  cruel  face. 

"I  have  only  to  tell  you,"  she  said  slowly  and  with 
deadly  hardness,  "you  will  not  have  to  force 
Jerry-Jo  McAlpin  to  marry  me;  he's  eager  enough  to 
do  it.  He  leaves  to-night  for  the  States;  he  has 
arranged  for  me  to  go  with  him."  She  paused, 
then  went  on,  speaking  now  to  her  mother: 

"As  God  hears  me,  I  am  not  dishonoured,  little 
mother.  I  will  never  bring  dishonour  upon  you. 
I  could  have  explained  to  you  —  you  would  have 
understood,  but  father  —  never!  I  am  going  to  the 
States.  Good-bye." 

"My  child!  oh!  my  girl!" 

"Good-bye,  dear  mother." 

"Oh,  Priscilla!     Do  not  leave  us  so!  " 

"This  is  the  only  way." 

"But,  you  —  you  are  not  yet  wedded." 

Priscilla  smiled. 

"You  must  leave  that  to  Jerry- Jo  and  me.  And 
now  a  kiss  —  and  the  dear  cheek  against  mine. 
So!" 

"But  you  will  come  back "  Theodora  sank 

gently  to  the  floor.  She  had  fainted  quite  away! 

Priscilla  bent  with  her,  she  lifted  the  white  head 
to  her  knee,  and  again  addressed  her  father. 

"You  are  satisfied?"  she  asked.    The  shield  was 


164  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

down  between  them.  Man  and  woman,  they  stared, 
understandingly,  in  each  other's  eyes. 

"Leave  her  to  me!"  commanded  Nathaniel,  and 
strode  toward  the  prostrate  form. 

"You've  lied  first  and  last.  Neither  McAlpin  nor 
any  other  honest  man  will  have  you!  Go!" 

"I  will  go  and  —  my  hate  I  leave  with  you!" 

And  when  Theodora  opened  her  eyes  she  was 
lying  on  the  rough  couch  in  the  sunny  kitchen, 
and  Nathaniel  was  bathing  her  face  with  cool 
water. 

"The  child?"  faltered  the  mother,  looking  plead- 
ingly around.  And  then  Nathaniel  showed  mercy, 
the  only  mercy  in  his  power. 

"She's  gone  to  McAlpin.  They  leave  for  the 
States  to-night.  It's  you  and  I  alone  now  to  the 
end  of  the  way." 

"Husband,  husband!  We've  been  hard  on  her; 
we've  driven  her  to " 

"Hush,  you!  foolish  one.  Would  you  defy  God? 
Each  one  of  us  walks  the  path  our  feet  are  set  upon. 
Twas  fore-ordained  and  her  being  ours  makes  no 
difference.  Every  light  woman  was  —  some  one's, 
God  knows  —  and  with  Him  there  be  no  respecter 
of  persons." 

"Oh!  but  if  you  had  only  been  kinder.  It  seems  as 
if  we  haven't  gone  beside  her  on  her  path.  Couldn't 
we  have  drawn  her  from  it  —  if  we  had  expected 
different  of  her?  Oh!  I  shall  miss  her  sore.  The 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    165 

loneliness,  the  loneliness  with  her  out  of  the  days 
and  the  long  nights." 

Theodora  was  weeping  again  desolately. 

"Be  grateful,  woman,  that  worse  has  not  come 
to  us." 

Now  that  the  deathlike  faint  was  over,  Nathaniel's 
softening  was  passing. 

"And  she  went  from  our  door  hungry,  the  poor 
dear!  We  wouldn't  have  treated  a  beggar  so." 

"Had  she  come  as  a  suppliant,  all  would  have 
been  different." 

Then  Theodora  sat  up,  and  a  kind  of  frenzy  drove 
her  to  speak. 

"She  had  something  to  tell!  You  did  not  let  her 
say  her  say.  What  kept  her  away  all  night  ?  Jerry- 
Jo  McAlpin  has  the  devil  blood  in  him  when  he's 

up  to  —  to  pranks.  Suppose A  sort  of 

horror  shook  the  thin,  livid  face.  Nathaniel,  in 
spite  of  himself,  had  a  bad  moment;  then  his  hard 
common  sense  steadied  him. 

"Would  she  go  to  him,  if  what  you  fear  was 
true?" 

"Has  she  gone  to  him?" 

"Where  else  then  —  and  all  Kenmore  not  know? 
Wait  till  to-morrow  before  you  leap  to  the  doing  of 
that  which  you  may  regret.  Calm  yourself  and 
wait  until  to-morrow." 

And  Theodora  waited  —  many,  many  morrows. 


CHAPTER  XI 

AD  you  see,  Master  Farwell,  I  cannot  go  back 
to  my  father's  house." 
It   was   after   nine  of  the    evening  of  the 
day  Priscilla  Glenn  had  left  home.     She  had  reached 
Farwell's  shack  without  being  seen.     By  keeping 
to  the  woods  and  watching  her  opportunity,  she  had 
gained  the  rear  of  the  schoolhouse,  entered  while 
Farwell  was  absent,  and  breathed  freely  only  after 
securing  the  door. 

The  master  had  returned  an  hour  later  and,  the 
gossip  of  the  Green  ringing  in  his  ears,  confronted  the 
white,  silent  girl  with  no  questions,  but  merely  a 
glad  smile  of  relief.  He  had  insisted  upon  her  taking 
food,  drink,  and  rest  before  explaining  anything,  and 
Priscilla  had  gratefully  obeyed. 

"I'll  gather  all  the  news  that  is  floating  about," 
Farwell  had  comforted  her.  "Sleep,  Priscilla.  You 
are  quite  safe."  Then  he  went  out  again. 

So  she  had  eaten  ravenously  and  slept  far  into  the 
early  evening  while  Anton  Farwell  went  about  lis- 
tening to  all  who  talked.  It  was  a  great  day  for 
Kenmore! 

"She  and  him  were  together  all  the  night,"  panted 

166 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    167 

Long  Jean,  about  noon,  in  the  kitchen  of  the  White 
Fish. 

"What's  that?"  called  Mary  McAdam  from  the 
closet.  Jean  repeated  her  choice  morsel,  and  Mary 
Terhune,  preparing  the  midday  meal,  thrilled. 

"I  was  at  her  horning,"  Jean  remarked,  "and  I 
minded  then  and  spoke  it  open,  that  she  was  made 
of  the  odds  and  ends  of  them  who  went  before  her. 
I've  a  notion  that  the  good  and  evil  that  might  have 
thinned  out  over  all  the  Glenn  girls  must  work  out 
thick  in  Priscilla." 

"I'm  thinking,"  Mary  Terhune  broke  in,  "that 
the  mingling  with  such  as  visits  at  the  Lodge  has 
upset  the  young  miss.  Her  airs  and  graces!  Lord 
of  heaven!  how  she  has  flouted  the  rest  of  the  young 
uns!  Aye,  but  they  are  mouthing  about  her  this 
day!  'Me  and  her,'  said  Jerry-Jo  to  me  this  early 
morning,  'me  and  her  got  caught  up  in  the  woods, 
and,  understanding  one  another,  we  chose  the  dry 
to  the  wet,  and  brought  things  to  a  point.  Her  and 
me  will  make  tracks  for  the  States.  It's  all  evened 
up.'  And  I  do  say,"  Mary  went  on,  "that  all  con- 
sidering, Jerry-Jo  is  doing  the  handsome  thing.  I 
ain't  picking  flaws  in  her  —  maybe  she's  as  clean  as 
the  cleanest,  but  there's  them  who  wouldn't  believe 
it,  as  you  both  very  well  know." 

This  last  was  to  include  Mrs.  McAdam,  who  had 
issued  from  the  closet  with  an  ugly  look  on  her  thin, 
dark  face. 


i68   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"You  old  harpies!"  she  cried,  striding  to  the  mid- 
dle of  the  big  room  and  getting  into  position  for  an 
oratorical  outburst.  "You  two  blighted  old  mid- 
wives  as  ought,  heaven  knows,  to  have  mercy  on 
women;  you  who  see  the  tortures  of  women!  You 
would  take  a  girl's  name  from  her  on  the  word  of 
that  half-breed,  who  would  sooner  lie  than  steal  — 
and  both  are  easy  to  the  whelp.  That  girl  is  the 
straightest  girl  that  ever  walked,  and  no  evil  has 
come  to  her  from  my  house.  A  word  more  like  that, 
Mary  Terhune,  and  you'll  never  share  my  home 
again,  and  as  for  you,  Jean,  you  who  helped  the 
lass  into  life,  what  kind  of  a  snake-heart  have 
you?" 

Mary  McAdam  had  both  women  trembling  before 
her. 

"I'll  go  up  to  Lonely  Farm  myself/'  screamed  she, 
"and  if  Glenn  and  his  poor  little  slave-wife  are  doing 
the  low  trick  by  their  girl,  as  God  hears  me,  I'll  take 
her  for  my  own,  and  turn  you  both  back  to  the  trade 
you  dishonour!" 

Anton  Farwell,  passing  near  the  window,  heard 
this  and  went  his  way. 

Later  old  Jerry  McAlpin  came  to  him  on  the  wharf 
where  the  men  were  gathered  to  meet  the  incoming 
steamer. 

"Lordy!  Master  Farwell,"  quavered  Jerry; 
"while  I  was  out  on  the  bay  this  early  morning,  my 
lad,  what  all  the  town  is  humming  about,  goes  tc 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   169 

my  home  and  takes  everything  —  everything  of  any 

vally  and  leaves  this " 

McAlpin  passed  a  dirty  piece  of  paper  to  Farwell. 

"I'm  going  to  get  out  on  the  steamer.  Going  to  the 
States,  and  had  to  have  the  stuff  to  get  away  with.  /  — 
ain't  —  alone!  I'm  going  down  the  Channel  to  board  the 
steamer  where  it  stops  for  gasoline.  Dont  follow  me  for 
God's  sake.  I'll  pay  you  back  and  more." 

Farwell  read  the  words  twice,  then  said: 

"Well?" 

"Shall  I  —  stop  him,  Master  Farwell?" 

"Can  you  spare  what  he  has  taken?" 

"Tain't  that,  sir." 

"Then  let  him  go!     Let  him  have  his  fling.'* 

"They  do  say  —  Long  Jean,  she  do  say  —  it's 
Glenn's  girl.  My  lad's  been  crazy  for  her.  I'm 
afraid  of  Glenn." 

"Let  things  alone,  McAlpin.  This  is  your  time  to 
lie  low  and  hold  your  tongue." 

Farwell  tore  the  paper  in  shreds  and  cast  them  to 
the  wind. 

The  steamer  came  in  at  eight.  At  nine-thirty  it 
left  the  wharf,  and,  a  mile  down  the  Channel,  stopped 
at  the  little  safety  station  to  take  on  oil  and  gasoline. 
Tom  Bluff,  a  half-breed,  had  the  place  in  charge,  and 
later  that  evening  he  put  the  finishing  touch  to  the 
day's  gossip. 

1  'Twas  Jerry- Jo,  as  you  live,  who  jumped  aboard, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

taking  the  last  can  I  was  hauling  up  with  him.  So 
in  a  hurry  was  he  that  he  nigh  pushed  some  one 
down  who  was  in  front  of  him. 

"' Where  going?'  calls  I.  'To  the  States,'  he  says 
back,  and  picks  up  the  young  person  he  nigh  knocked 
down." 

Long  Jean,  to  whom  Tom  was  confiding  this,  drew 
near. 

"Who  was  the  young  person?"  whispered  she, 
with  the  fear  of  Mary  McAdam  still  upon  her. 

"Her  face?     I  did  not  see  her  face." 
'Twas  Glenn's  girl,"  panted  Long  Jean;  "Pris- 
cilla!" 

"Ugh!"  grunted  Tom  as  his  ancestors  had  often 
grunted  in  the  past.  "Ugh!" 

That  was  all  for  the  day,  and  behind  closed  doors 
and  windows  Kenmore  slept.  The  storm  of  the  pre- 
vious night  had  been  followed  by  a  cold  wave,  and 
upon  Farwell's  hearth  a  fire  crackled  cheerily. 

"And  so,  you  see,  I  cannot  go  back  to  my  father's 
house." 

Farwell  bent  his  head  over  his  folded  arms. 

"But  Mrs.  McAdam  will  take  you  in,  Priscilla. 
After  things  calm  down  and  the  truth  is  accepted,  your 
people  will  forgive  and  forget.  You  poor  child!" 

Priscilla  closed  her  lips  sharply.  Her  eyes  were 
very  luminous,  very  tender,  as  they  rested  upon  Far- 
well,  but  her  heart  knew  no  pity  for  her  father. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   171 

"How  old  one  grows,  Master  Farwell,  in  —  a 
night,"  she  said  with  a  quiver  in  her  voice.  "I  went 
happily  away  with  Jerry-Jo,  quite,  quite  a  girl,  only 
yesterday.  I  had  the  feeling  of  a  child  trying  to 
make  believe  I  was  a  woman.  I  wanted  to  show  my 
father  he  could  no  longer  control  me  as  he  always 
had  before.  I  —  I  wanted  to  have  my  way,  and 
then  my  way  brought  me  to  —  those  black  hours 
of  horror  when  something  in  me  died  forever  and 
something  new  was  born.  And  how  strange,  Master 
Farwell,  that  when  I  could  think  at  all  clear  —  you 
stood  out  as  my  only  friend.  I  seemed  to  know 
how  it  would  be  with  my  father  and  my  poor 
mother.  My  father  has  always  expected  evil  of  me, 
and  something  in  me  seemed  ever  to  work  against 
the  good  of  me,  to  give  him  cause  for  believing  me 
wrong.  But  you  saw  the  good,  my  friend,  and  to  you 
I  come  —  a  woman,  now.  I  do  not  know  the  lan- 
guage of  what  I  feel  here  "  —  she  pressed  her  hands  to 
her  heart  —  "but  I  feel  sure  you  will  understand.  I 
cannot  stay  in  Kenmore!  I  do  not  want  to.  Al- 
ways I  have  wanted  to  have  a  bigger  place,  a  larger 
opportunity,  and  even  if  Kenmore  would  take  me,  I 
will  not  have  Kenmore!  Somehow  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  never  belonged  here,  really.  You  do  not  belong 
here.  Oh,  Master  Farwell,  can  you  not  come,  too?" 

As  she  spoke,  the  old,  weary  look  passed  for  an 
instant  from  her  eyes;  she  was  a  child,  daring,  yet 
fearful!  Ready  to  go  forward  into  the  dark,  but 


172   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS^ 

pleading  for  a  trusted  hand  to  hold.  And  Farwell, 
who,  could  she  have  known,  was  clinging  more  to  her 
than  she  to  him,  almost  groaned  the  one  word: 

"No!" 

"Why,  oh,  why,  Mr.  Farwell?  Like  father  and 
daughter  we  could  make  our  way.  I  think  I  have 
never  known  what  a  father  might  be,  but  you  would 
show  me  now  in  my  great  need." 

"Hush!"  Farwell's  eyes  held  hers  commandingly, 
entreatingly.  "You  must  hear  what  I  have  to  say. 
Why  do  you  think  I  have  stayed  in  Kenmore?  Why 
I  must  stay?  Have  you  thought?" 

"No."  And  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  Priscilla 
wondered.  Before,  the  man  had  been  but  part  of  her 
life;  now  she  wondered  about  him,  with  the  woman- 
mind  that  had  come  so  suddenly  and  tragically  to 
her. 

"No,  Master  Farwell,  why?" 

"  Because  —  well,  because  Kenmore  is  my  grave  — 
must  always  be  my  grave.  I'm  dead.  Good  people, 
just  people  said  I  was  dead.  I  am  dead.  Alive, 
I  would  be  a  menace,  a  curse.  Dead,  I  am  safe. 
I've  paid  my  debt,  and  you,  you,  the  people  of  my 
grave,  since  you  do  not  know,  have  given  me  a 
chance,  and  I've  been  a  friend  among  friends!  Why, 
I've  even  come  to  a  consciousness  that  —  perhaps  it 
is  best  for  me  to  be  dead,  for  back  there,  back  among 
the  living,  the  thing  I  once  was  might  assert  itself 
again." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    173 

The  bitterness,  the  pitiful  truthfulness,  of  Far- 
well's  voice  and  words  sank  deep  into  Priscilla's 
heart.  Out  of  them  she  instantly  accepted  one 
great,  vital  fact:  he  was  in  Kenmore  as  a  refugee;  he 
had  been  —  had  done  —  wrong!  With  the  accept- 
ance of  this,  a  strange  thing  happened.  Curiosity, 
even  interest,  departed.  For  no  reason  that  she 
could  have  classified,  Priscilla  Glenn  fiercely  desired 
to  —  keep  Farwell!  If  she  knew  what  he  seemed 
bent  upon  telling,  he  might  take  away  her  faith  — 
her  only  support.  She  would  keep  and  hold  to  what 
she  believed  him,  what  he  had  been  since  he  came 
to  the  In-Place.  It  was  childish,  blind  perhaps,  but 
her  words  were  those  of  a  determined  woman. 

"Master  Farwell,  I  will  not  listen  to  you.  If  you 
are  dead,  and  are  safe,  dead,  I  will  not  look  into  the 
grave.  All  my  life  you  have  been  good  to  me,  been 
my  only  friend;  you  shall  not  take  yourself  from  me! 
And  I  —  please  let  me  do  this  one  little  thing  for 
you  —  let  me  prove  that  I  can  love  and  honour  you 
without —  explanation!" 

Farwell's  face  twitched.  He  struggled  to  speak, 
and  finally  said  unsteadily: 

"I  have  been  —  good,  as  you  say,  because  I  had  to 
be.  At  any  moment  I  might  have  been  what  I  once 
was.  Why,  girl,  without  knowing  it,  Kenmore  — 
all  of  you  —  had  it  in  your  power  to  fling  me  to  the 
dogs  had  you  known,  so  you  see " 

But  Priscilla  shook  her  head. 


174  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"You  did  not  have  to  risk  your  life  as  you  did  for 
the  McAdam  boys.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know 
how  you  have  —  grown  in  your  grave,  Master  Far- 
well.  Trust  and  liking  come  hard  to  us  in  Kenmore, 
yet  not  one  of  us  doubts  you.  No,  no,  lie  quiet.  I 
do  not  want  to  see  you  as  you  remember  your- 
self; you  are  better  as  you  are.  I  will  not  hear;  I 
will  not  have  it  in  my  thought  when  I  am  far 
away." 

The  hardness  passed  from  Farwell's  face.  Some- 
thing like  relief  replaced  it,  and  he  said  slowly: 

"My  God!  what  a  woman  you  will  make  if  they 
do  not  harry  you  to  death.' 

"They  will  not!"  The  white,  tired  face  seemed 
illumined  from  within.  "  Last  night  made  me  so  sure 
—  of  myself.  It  showed  me  how  weak  I  was-,  and 
how  strong.  Do  you  know"  —  and  here  a  flush,  not 
of  ignorance,  but  of  strange  understanding,  struck 
across  Priscilla's  face  like  a  flame  —  "women  like 
my  mother,  all  the  women  here  in  Kenmore,  do  not 
understand?  They  just  let  people  take  from  them 
what  no  one  has  a  right  to  take,  what  only  they 
should  give!  It's  when  this  something  is  taken  that 
they  become  like  my  poor  mother  —  afraid  and 
crushed.  If  I  live  and  die  alone  and  lonely,  I  shall 
keep  what  is  my  own  until  I  —  I  give  it  gladly  and 
because  I  trust.  I  am  not  afraid !  But  if  I  had  mar- 
ried Jerry-Jo  because  of  —  of  —  what  he  and  my 
father  thought,  then  I  would  have  been  lost,  like 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    175 

my  mother,  don't  you  see?  I  —  I  can  —  live  alone, 
but  I  will  not  be  lost." 

"But,  great  heavens!  you  are  a  woman!" 

"Is  it  so  sad  a  thing  to  be  a  —  woman?  Why?" 

To  this  Farwell  made  no  reply.  Shading  his 
gloomy  eyes  with  his  thin  hand,  he  turned  from  the 
courageous,  uplifted  face  and  sighed.  Finally  he 
spoke  as  if  the  fight  had  all  gone  from  him. 

"Stay  here.  The  thing  you  want  isn't  worth  the 
struggle.  There  is  no  use  arguing,  but  I  urge  you  to 
stay.  The  In-Place  is  safer  for  you.  What  is  it 
that  you  must  have  ? " 

Priscilla  laughed  —  a  wild,  dreary  little  sound  it 
was,  but  it  dashed  hope  from  Farwell's  mind. 

"I  want  my  chance,  a  woman's  chance,  and  I 
cannot  have  it  here.  I'm  not  going  to  hide  under 
Mrs.  McAdam's  wing,  or  even  yours,  Master 
Farwell.  I've  left  all  the  comfort  with  my  poor 
mother  that  I  can.  Never  let  her  know  the  truth, 
now  I  am  going  —  going  to  start  on  My  Road !  I 
do  not  care  where  it  leads,  it  is  mine,  and  I  am  not 
afraid." 

In  her  ignorance  and  defiance  she  was  splendid  and 
stirred  the  dead  embers  of  Farwell's  imagination  to 
something  like  life.  If  she  were  bent  upon  her 
course,  if  his  hand  could  not  rest  upon  the  tiller  of 
her  untested  craft  when  she  put  out  to  sea,  what 
could  he  do  for  her?  To  whom  turn? 

"Is  there  not  one,  Master  Farwell,  just  one,  out 


176   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

beyond  the  In-Place,  who,  for  your  sake,  would  help 
me  at  first  until  I  learned  the  way?" 

The  question  chimed  in  with  Farwell's  thought. 

He  leaned  across  the  table  separating  him  from 
Priscilla  Glenn  and  asked  suddenly: 

"Can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

Promptly,  emphatically,  the  answer  came.     "  Yes, 
I  can." 

:  "Then  listen!  You  must  stay  here,  hide  yourself, 
keep  yourself  as  best  you  may,  while  I  go  to  —  make 
arrangements.  I  will  be  no  longer  than  I  can  help, 
but  it  will  take  time.  The  house  is  well  stocked; 
make  yourself  comfortable.  There  are  days  when 
no  one  knows  whether  I  am  here  or  elsewhere.  Pro- 
tect yourself  until  I  return.  And  when"  —  Farwell 
paused  and  moistened  his  lips  —  "when  you  are 
over  the  border,  in  the  whirlpool,  the  past,  this  life, 
must  be  forgotten.  Raise  up  a  high  wall,  Priscilla, 
that  no  one  can  scale.  Begin  your  new  life  from  the 
hour  you  reach  the  States.  The  one  who  will  be- 
friend you  need  know  no  more  than  I  tell  him;  others 
must  take  you  on  faith.  At  any  moment  your 
father,  or  some  one  like  Jerry- Jo,  might  hound  you 
unless  you  live  behind  a  shield.  You  understand?" 

He  did  not  plead  for  his  own  safety,  and  he  was,  at 
that  moment,  humanly  thinking  of  hers  alone. 

"If  you  get  the  worst  of  it,  come  back;  but  leave 
the  gate  open  only  for  —  yourself." 

"Yes,    yes."    And    now    Priscilla's    eyes    were 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    177 

shining  like  stars.  "  I  will  do  all  that  you  say;  I  feel 
so  brave  and  strong  and  sure.  I  want  the  test,  and 
I  will  leave  the  door  to  Kenmore  ajar  until  the  day 
vvhen  I  can  push  it  wide  and  enter  as  I  will,  taking 
or  bringing  my  dear  friends  with  me.  I  see"  —  she 
paused  and  her  eyes  grew  misty  —  "I  see  My  Road, 
stretching  on  and  on,  and  it  ends  —  oh,  Master 
Farwell,  it  ends  in  my  Heart's  Desire!"  She  was 
childishly  elated  and  excited. 

Farwell  was  fascinated. 

"Your  Heart's  Desire?"  he  muttered;  "and  what 
is  that?" 

"Who  knows  until  —  she  sees  it?  Hurry!  hurry! 
Master  Farwell,  I  long  to  set  forth." 

Forgotten  was  her  recent  experience  of  horror; 
fading  already  was  Kenmore  from  her  sight.  Dan- 
ger by  the  way  did  not  daunt  her;  the  man  bowed 
before  her  was  but  a  blurred  speck  upon  her  vanish- 
ing horizon;  then  suddenly  a  sound  caught  her  ear. 

"You  —  you  —  are"  —  she  arose  and  stood  be- 
side Farwell,  her  hand  upon  his  bent  shoulder  — 
"you  are  crying;  and  for  why?" 

"Loneliness,  remorse,  and  fear  for  you,  poor  child." 

And  then  Priscilla  came  back  to  the  grim  room 
and  the  cowering  form. 

"I  will  bring  happiness  to  you,"  she  whispered; 
"this  I  swear.  In  some  way  you  shall  be  happy." 

But  Farwell  shook  his  head. 

"To  bed,"  he  said  suddenly;  "to  bed,  girl,  and  to 


178  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

sleep.  I'll  take  a  nap  out  here  on  the  couch.  Be- 
fore you  awake  I'll  be  on  my  way.  Keep  the  shades 
drawn;  it's  my  way  of  saying  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
disturbed.  Good  night,  and  God  bless  you,  Pris- 
cilla." 


CHAPTER  XII 

A3UT  two  in  the  morning  Farwell   set  out 
upon  his  business  for  Priscilla.     He  left   a 
safe  and  roaring  fire  upon  the  hearth;  the 
window  shades  he  did  not  raise,  and  well  he  knew 
that  with  that  signal  of  desire  for  privacy  his  house 
would  be  passed  by  without  apparent  notice.     The 
smoke  might  curl  from  the  chimney,  the  dogs  might, 
or  might  not,   materialize,   but  with   those  close- 
drawn  shades  the  simple  courtesy  of  Kenmore  would 
protect  the  master. 

Priscilla  was  sleeping  when  Farwell  silently  closed 
the  door  after  him,  and,  followed  by  his  dogs,  pro- 
vided with  food  and  blankets,  he  noiselessly  took 
to  the  shadowy  woods<  It  was  a  starry,  still  hour, 
lying  between  night  and  morning,  and  it  partook  of 
both.  Dark  it  was,  but  with  that  silvery  lumi- 
nosity which  a  couple  of  hours  later  would  be  changed 
to  pink  glow.  The  stars  shone,  and  the  one  great, 
pulsing  planet  that  hung  over  the  sleeping  village 
seemed  more  gloriously  near  than  Farwell  had  ever 
before  noticed  it.  All  nature  was  waiting  for  the 
magic  touch  of  day;  soon  action  and  colour  and 
sound  would  stir;  just  then  the  hush  and  breath- 

179 


1 8o  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

lessness  were  a  strange  setting  for  the  lonely  man 
moving  forward  into  the  deeper  shadows  followed 
close  by  his  faithful  dogs.  This  man  who,  in  the 
mad  passion  of  his  blighted  youth,  had  taken  life 
as  if  it  were  but  one  of  the  many  things  over  which 
he  claimed  supremacy,  with  bowed  head  and  slow 
steps,  was  going  on  an  errand  of  mercy;  he  was  going 
to  claim,  for  a  helpless  human  creature,  assistance 
from  the  only  man  in  all  God's  world  upon  whom  he 
could  call  with  hope  of  success. 

The  program,  the  next  few  days,  was  as  clear  in 
FarweH's  mind  as  if  he  had  already  followed  it  from 
start  to  finish.  By  eight  Pine  would  be  on  his  tracks; 
by  noon  they  would  be  together,  the  dogs  grumbling 
and  fighting  at  their  heels.  Two  nights  by  the  fire, 
smoking  in  a  dull  silence,  broken  now  and  then,  in 
sheer  desperation,  by  Farwell  himself. 

In  Ledyard's  plan  there  had  evidently  been  but  one 
stipulation:  the  constant  guardianship  with  explicit 
reports.  Beyond  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  ex- 
actions. Farwell  had  tried  to  make  Pine  drink  more 
than  was  good  for  him  on  various  occasions  in  order 
to  test  the  metal  of  the  restraint,  but  the  Indian  dis- 
played a  wonderful  self-control.  He  knew  when  and 
where  to  begin  and  stop  in  any  self-indulgence,  but 
having  fulfilled  his  part  he  showed  no  interest  or 
curiosity  in  his  companion.  Once  the  trading  station 
was  reached,  Farwell  might  buy  or  seek  pleasure  as 
he  chose;  he  might  write  or  receive  letters;  might 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    181 

sleep  or  wake.  So  long  as  the  tangible  Farwell  was 
where  the  guide  could  locate  him  at  a  moment's 
notice,  he  was  free  to  think  and  act  to  his  own  sat- 
isfaction. 

As  he  plodded  on  Farwell  contemplated,  as  he 
never  had  before,  his  relations  with  the  Indian;  in 
fact,  the  Indian  himself.  A  superficial  friendliness 
had  sprung  up  between  the  two.  How  deep  was  it? 
how  much  to  be  depended  upon?  If  Ledyard  could 
buy  the  fellow,  might  not  a  higher  price  secure  his 
allegiance?  This,  strange  to  say,  was  a  new  thought 
to  Farwell.  Perhaps  he  had  accepted  the  situation 
too  doggedly;  it  was  his  way  to  cease  struggling  when 
the  tide  turned  against  him.  It  was  weakness,  it 
was  folly,  and,  after  Priscilla  went,  after  the  girl 
opened  the  doors  again  into  that  old  life,  how  could 
he  endure  the  loneliness,  the  tugging  of  her  hold  upon 
him  from  the  place  he  once  had  called  his? 

The  day  came  late  to  the  deep  woods  beyond  Ken- 
more,  and  Farwell  seemed  going  toward  the  night 
instead  of  facing  the  morning.  At  five  he  paused  to 
feed  his  dogs  and  take  a  bite  himself,  and,  as  he  sat 
upon  a  fallen  tree,  the  mystic  stirrings  of  life  thrilled 
him  as  they  often  had  before.  It  was  more  a  sense  of 
rustle  and  awakening  than  actual  sound.  Hidden 
under  the  silence  of  the  forest  lay  the  quivering 
promises,  as  the  rosy  light  lay  just  on  the  border  of 
the  woodland.  Both  were  pressing  warm  and  com- 
fortingly close  to  the  lonely  man  with  his  patient 


i82   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

dogs  at  his  feet.  Farwell  was  a  better  man,  a  finer 
man,  than  he  knew,  but  only  subconsciously  did 
this  support  him. 

It  was  three  of  the  afternoon  before  he  heard  the 
quick,  measured  steps  on  the  trail  behind  him.  He 
did  not  turn  his  head,  but  he  called  back  a  genial 
"Hello!"  which  was  answered  by  a  grunt  not  devoid 
of  friendliness. 

The  evening  meal  was  eaten  together,  and  the  two 
arranged  their  blankets  near  the  fire  for  the  night's 
rest.  Farwell's  two  dogs  and  Pine's  one  faithful 
henchman  lay  down  in  peace  a  short  distance  away. 
It  was  as  it  had  been  for  a  time  back,  except  that  the 
Indian  had  become,  suddenly,  either  an  obstacle 
to  be  overcome  or  a  friend  to  assist.  Not  realizing 
his  new  importance,  the  guide  grunted  a  good  night 
and  fell  into  that  sleep  of  his  that  never  seemed  to 
capture  his  senses  entirely. 

At  the  small  town,  which  was  reached  late  the 
following  day,  Farwell  engaged  two  rooms  at  the 
ramshackle  tavern  and  informed  Pine  that  he  was  to 
share  the  luxuries. 

This  was  unusual.  In  the  past  a  day  at  the  sta- 
tion sufficed  for  business  transactions,  and  night 
found  them  in  the  woods  again.  Pine  was  confused 
but  alert.  However,  things  progressed  comfortably 
enough.  The  expected  mail  was  awaiting  Farwell, 
and  he  greedily  bought  all  the  newspapers  he  could 
get.  His  purchases  at  the  store  did  not  interest  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    183 

Indian  and  he  was  not  even  aware  that  several 
garments  for  a  woman  were  included  in  Farwell's  list. 
A  telegram  sent,  and  another  received,  did  perturb 
the  fellow  a  good  deal,  but  when  Farwell  tore  the 
one  he  got  into  shreds,  the  simple  mind  of  the  guide 
concluded  that  the  matter  was  unimportant,  and  he 
forgot  it  before  they  reached  Kenmore.  He  could  not 
burden  his  poor  intellect  with  unnecessary  rubbish, 
and  the  whole  business  was  getting  on  to  what  stood 
for  nerves  in  the  Indian's  anatomy. 

What  really  had  occurred  was  this:  Farwell  had 
reached  across  the  desolate  stretches  that  divided 
him  from  his  one  friend  and  got  a  response.  He  had 
impressed  upon  John  Boswell  that  he  could  not  come 
in  person  to  Kenmore,  but  he  could  meet  a  certain 
needy  young  person  and  convey  her  to  safety  in 
the  States.  And  he  had  asked  a  question  that  for 
months  had  never  risen  to  the  surface  —  he  had  been 
too  crushed  to  give  it  place. 

"  Is  Joan  Moss  still  alive  ? " 

Boswell  was  ready  to  aid  him  in  any  way,  would 
even  deny  himself  the  longing  of  seeing  his  old  friend 
face  to  face,  since  that  seemed  desirable.  He  would 
meet  the  young  woman  at  a  place  called  Little  Cor- 
ners and  would  do  what  he  could  for  her. 

"Joan  Moss  is  still  alive." 

A  strong  light  and  a  new  hope  came  into  Farwell's 
sad  eyes.  He  had  a  hold  on  the  future!  With 
the  possibility  of  supplanting  Ledyard  in  Pine's 


1 84   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

ideas  of  loyalty  and  economics  what  might  not 
happen? 

And  so  they  started  back. 

It  was  midnight,  four  days  after  Farwell  had  left 
home,  that  he  entered  his  own  door  again.  The  re- 
turn trip  had  been  rushed,  much  to  Pine's  approba- 
tion. Priscilla  was  quietly  sewing  at  the  table  when 
Farwell,  having  loudly  bidden  the  Indian  good  night, 
came  into  the  living-room. 

The  girl's  alarmed  glance  turned  to  one  of  relieved 
welcome  when  she  saw  Farwell.  She  had  some 
food  ready  for  him  —  every  night  she  had  been  pre- 
pared —  and  he  ate  it  ravenously.  She  noted  how 
white  and  weary  he  looked,  but  the  triumphant  ex- 
pression in  his  sad  eyes  did  not  escape  her,  either. 

"You  have  good  news?"  she  asked  as  soon  as 
Farwell  had  rested  a  bit  by  his  fireside. 

"Yes.     And  you?" 

"Oh!  I  have  done  famously.  Only  two  knocks 
at  the  door,  and  I  was  well  hidden.  Once  it  was  Mrs. 
McAdam  and  once  old  Jerry.  They  did  not  try  to 
enter." 

"They  would  not.  And  there  was  food  and  fuel 
enough  ? " 

"  Food  —  yes;  I  went  out  three  times  for  wood,  and 
I  took  one  wild,  mad  walk.  I  ran,  while  all  the  world 
slept,  to  Lonely  Farm.  I  looked  in  at  my  father's 
window;  he  was  dozing  by  the  fire,  and  —  my 
mother " 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    185 

"Well,  Priscilla?" 

"My  mother  —  was  crying!  I  shall  always  re- 
member her  —  crying.  I  did  not  know  there  were 
so  many  tears  in  the  world!" 

"You  —  you  still  insist  upon  going  away?" 

"Yes.  There  is  no  other  way  for  me.  Already 
I  seem  a  stranger,  a  passerby.  Not  even  for  my 
mother  can  I  stay;  it  could  work  no  good  for  her  or 

me.  Perhaps,  by  and  by "  Priscilla  paused. 

Now  that  she  was  about  to  turn  her  back  on  all 
that  was  familiar  to  her,  she  became  serious  and 
intense,  but  she  knew  no  shadow  of  wavering. 

Then  Farwell  told  her  the  arrangements  he  had 
made. 

"I  have  a  hundred  dollars  for  you,  Priscilla.  I 
wish  it  were  more.  My  friend  Boswell  will  meet  you 
at  Little  Corners.  This  is  Friday;  he  will  be  there 
on  Sunday  and  will  wait  for  you  at  the  inn;  there  is 
only  one.  Ask  for  it  and  go  straight  to  it.  From 
here  to  Little  Corners  is  the  hardest  part.  I  will 
go  as  far  as  I  dare  with  you;  the  rest  you  must  make 
alone.  Halfway,  there  is  a  deserted  shanty  near  the 
old  factory;  there  you  can  make  yourself  comfortable 
for  the  night.  Are  you  afraid  ? " 

Priscilla  was  white  and  intent,  but  she  answered : 

"No,  I  shall  not  be  afraid." 

"You  ought  to  cover  the  distance  in  a  couple  of 
days  and  a  night;  the  walking  is  not  hard,  and  the 
woods  are  fairly  well  cleared.  Once  you  reach  Boswell 


1 86   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

you  are  safe.  He  will  not  question  you,  but  you  can 
trust  him.  He's  a  strange  man  —  younger  than  I; 
he  stands,  has  always  stood,  for  all  that  is  noble  and 
good  in  my  life.  I  have  told  him  that  you  are  some 
one  in  whom  I  am  interested." 

The  feeling  of  adventure  closed  in  and  clutched 
the  girl.  Now  that  the  hour  had  actually  come,  the 
hour  up  to  which  all  her  preparations  tended,  she 
quivered  with  excitement  tinged  with  sadness. 

"This  way  of  leaving  Kenmore  is  safer,"  Farwell 
was  saying.  "If  any  one  were  to  see  you  and  know 
you,  your  father  would  find  you  out  and  bring  you 
back.  No  one  will  know  you  at  Little  Corners. 
That's  a  place  which  most  honest  people  let  alone. 
You'll  like  Boswell  —  everyone  does  —  after  the  first. 
He'll  put  you  in  the  way  of  helping  yourself,  and 
your  people  may  still  hold  their  belief  about  you  and 
Jerry- Jo,  since  it  makes  things  easier  for  them." 

"Yes;'  they  must  believe  that  until ':  But 

Priscilla  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

The  two  sat  silent  for  a  few  minutes  while  the 
tired  dogs  upon  the  hearth  breathed  loud  and  evenly. 
Then  at  last  Priscilla  asked: 

"When  do  we  start,  Master  Farwell?" 

"Start?  Oh,  to  be  sure.  I  had  forgotten."  Far- 
well  roused  himself  from  his  lethargy.  "We  start 
at  once;  in  an  hour  or  two  at  the  latest.  I  will  nap 
here  on  the  couch;  you  must  rest  as  best  you  can. 
There's  a  long  coat  and  a  hat  in  yonder  bundle. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    187 

They  must  serve  you  until  you  meet  Boswell. 
He'll  rig  you  out  in  some  town  before  you  reach 
civilization.  Here's  the  money;  take  wallet  and  all. 
Hide  it  somewhere,  Priscilla."  Farwell  was  on  his 
feet  and  active  once  more. 

"Go  in  an  hour  or  two?"  gasped  Priscilla  absent- 
mindedly,  following  Farwell's  words  and  accepting 
the  money  with  a  long,  tender  look  of  gratitude.  "  In 
an  hour  or  two?  Why,  you've  only  just  come  in, 
Master  Farwell!" 

"What  matters?  After  to-morrow  I  shall  have 
time  to  rest  and  sleep  to  my  fill." 

"You  will  —  miss  me,  Master  Farwell?"  Pris- 
cilla's  eyes  were  dim.  "I  would  like  to  have  some 
one  —  miss  me!" 

"I  shall,  indeed,  miss  you!  You  can  never  under- 
stand what  you  have  meant  to  me,  Priscilla.  I  can- 
not make  you  understand;  I  shall  not  try;  but  in 
helping  you  I  have  perhaps  helped  myself.  I  can- 
not walk  out  of  the  In-Place  beside  you,  as  I  would 
like  to  do  —  not  now.  Maybe  a  long  time  hence, 
some  day,  I  may  follow!" 

Farwell's  excitement  showed  in  his  eyes  and  voice 
and  wiped  out  the  weariness  of  his  face. 

"You  mean  that,  Master  Farwell?  You  are  not 
trying  to  comfort  me?" 

"No;  I  am  comforting  myself!" 

Then,  forgetful  of  the  need  for  sleep,  he  went  on 
rapidly: 


1 88   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Out  where  you  are  going,  Priscilla,  there  is  a  —  a 
woman  I  love;  she  once  loved  me.  This  must  seem 
queer  to  you  who  have  only  known  me  as  —  as  I 
now  seem.  I  will  seem  different  to  you  when  you 
have  wakened  up  —  seen  other  kinds  of  men  and 
women." 

"  Is  she  young  —  pretty  ? " 

The  senseless  words  escaped  Priscilla's  lips  because 
quivering  interest  and  a  strange  embarrassment  held 
her  thought. 

"I  —  I  do  not  know  —  how  she  is  now.  She  was 
pretty.  Good  God !  how  pretty  she  was,  and  young, 
and  kind,  too.  It  was  the  kindness  that  mattered 
most.  You  see,  she  thinks  me  dead;  it  was  best  so. 
I  —  I  had  to  be  dead  for  a  while  and  then  I  meant  to 
go  to  her  myself.  But  —  something  happened.  I 
was  obliged  to  stay  on  here,  and  she  might  not  have 

understood.  I'd  like "  Farwell  paused  and 

looked  pleadingly  at  the  white  girl-face  across  the 
rude  table,  where  the  fragments  of  food  still  lay: 
"I'd  like  you  to  go  and  see  her.  Boswell  could  take 
you.  He's  done  everything  for  her,  God  bless  him! 
I'd  —  I'd  like  to  have  you  tell  her  gently,  kindly, 
that  I  am  alive.  You  might  say  it  so  as  to  spare  her 
shock;  you  might,  better  than  any  one  else!" 

The  longing  in  the  man's  eyes  was  almost  more 
than  Priscilla  could  endure.  Crude  as  she  was, 
wrong  and  sinful  as  the  man  near  her  may  at  one 
time  have  been,  she  knew  intuitively  that  the  love 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    189 

for  that  woman  in  the  States  had  been  his  consuming 
and  uplifting  passion.  If  he  had  sinned  for  her,  he 
had  also  died  for  her,  and  now  he  pleaded  for  resur- 
rection in  her  life. 

"  I  will  do  anything  in  all  the  world  for  you,  Master 
Farwell;  anything!" 

And  Priscilla  stretched  her  hands  out  impulsively. 
Farwell  took  them  in  his  cold,  thin  ones  and  clung 
to  her  grimly. 

"I'd  like  to  know  she'd  welcome  me!"  he  whis- 
pered. "Unless  she  could,  I'd  rather  stay  —  dead!" 

Another  silence  fell  between  the  man  and  girl 
while  he  relived  the  past  and  she  sought  to  enter 
the  future. 

The  clock  struck  the  half-hour  of  one  and  Far- 
well  sprang  up. 

"Get  ready!"  he  said.  "No  time  for  napping  now. 
It  is  —  it  is  Saturday  morning!  We  must  be  off! 

I'll  go  with  you  as  far  as  I  can.  For  the  rest " 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  blankly  at  Pris- 
cilla. 

A  little  after  two  they  started  away  from  the  small, 
darkened  house.  It  was  a  cloudy  morning;  day 
would  be  long  in  coming,  and  the  two  made  the  most 
of  the  darkness.  They  were  well  in  the  deep  woods 
by  six  o'clock;  at  seven  they  ate  some  food  Farwell 
had  hurriedly  prepared,  and  were  on  their  way 
again  by  eight.  They  did  not  talk  much.  Priscilla 
found  that  she  needed  all  her  strength,  now  that  she 


190  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

must  soon  depend  upon  herself,  and  Farwell  had 
nothing  more  to  say  but  —  good-bye! 

Anton  Farwell  had  got  ahead  of  his  spy  for  once! 
Not  even  so  indefatigable  an  Indian  as  Pine  could  be 
expected  to  watch  a  man  who  had  just  returned 
from  a  long  tramp.  But  Farwell  knew  full  well  that 
by  high  noon  his  guard  would  have  sensed  danger 
and  be  uncommonly  active,  so  he  pushed  the  march 
to  Priscilla's  utmost  limit. 

At  four  o'clock  they  reached  the  deserted  hut  neai 
the  old  factory.  A  fire  was  made  upon  the  hearth 
and  a  broken-down  settle  drawn  close. 

"I'd  rest  until  early  morning,"  advised  Farwell  in 
a  hard,  constrained  voice.  "Good  Lord,  Priscilla, 
it's  a  cruel  place  to  leave  you  —  alone ! " 

"I  shall  not  mind,  Master  Farwell."  All  that  was 
brave  and  unselfish  in  the  girl  rose  now  to  the  fore. 
She  recognized  that  Farwell,  even  more  than  she, 
needed  comfort. 

"I  shall  never  forget  you,"  she  said,  holding  her 
hands  out  to  him;  "never  forget  you  or  cease  to  — 
love  you!" 

The  last  words  made  him  wince. 

"Good-bye,  Priscilla." 

"Good-bye,  Master  Farwell." 

When  the  door  closed  upon  the  man,  for  a  moment 
Priscilla  stood  with  horrified  glance  following  him. 
The  sense  of  high  adventure  perished  at  his  going. 
Alone  in  the  woods,  in  the  ghostly  hut,  the  night  to 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    191 

face,  and  the  blank  future  stretching  beyond !  It  was 
more  than  she  could  bear,  and  a  cry  escaped  her 
parted  lips.  But  Farwell  did  not  hear,  and  the  par- 
oxysm passed. 

Priscilla  slept  that  night,  slept  well  and  safely, 
and  the  early  light  of  Sunday  morning  found  her 
refreshed  and  full  of  courage.  She  never  knew  that 
two  hours  after  leaving  her  Farwell  met  Pine  and 
found  in  him  —  a  friend ! 

They  had  come  face  to  face  on  a  side  trail. 

"Here  I  am!"  said  Farwell  cheerfully;  then  he 
took  his  place  in  front  of  the  guide.  That  had  al- 
ways been  the  unspoken  understanding. 

"See  here,  Pine,  we've  never  said  much  to  each 
other  about  what  —  all  this  means,  but  I  want  to 
say  something  now.  I  won't  give  you  much  trouble 
in  the  future.  I  shall  not  go  often  for  my  mail,  or 
necessaries.  In  return,  forget  this  journey.  I  went 
to  let  a  —  a  poor  little  devil  of  a  creature  out  of  a 
trap.  That  is  all.  I  just  couldn't  —  leave  it  to 
suffer  —  and  I  hadn't  time  to  call  you  up  after  our 
long  tramp  of  yesterday." 

"Ugh!"  came  from  behind. 

"Pine,  can  you  trust  me?" 

"Ugh!"  But  the  grunt  was  affirmative. 

"Smoke  on  it,  Tough?" 

And  they  smoked  while  they  plodded  wearily  back 
into  bondage. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ETLE  CORNERS,  lying  on  the  borderland 
of  Canada  and  the  States,  stretched  like  a 
hand,  the  thumb  and  small  finger  of  which 
belonged  to  the  Dominion,  the  three  digits,  in  be- 
tween, to  the  sister  country.  Of  course  it  was  com- 
paratively easy  to  bring  merchandise,  and  what  not, 
by  way  of  the  thumb  and  little  finger  and  send  the 
same  forth  by  the  three  exits,  known  to  Timothy 
Goodale  as  "furrin  parts."  Timothy  was  exces- 
sively British,  as  so  many  Canadians  are,  but  he  was 
a  broad-minded  man  in  his  sympathies,  and  a  friend 
to  all  —  when  it  paid.  He  was  a  man  of  keen  per- 
ceptions, of  conveniently  short  memory,  and  had 
the  capacity  for  giving  a  lie  all  the  virtuous  appear- 
ance of  truth  and  frankness.  Goodale  had  no 
family,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  served  his  guests  him- 
self. A  half-breed  cooked  for  him;  a  half-witted 
French-Canadian  girl  did  unimportant  tasks  about 
the  bedchambers,  but  the  host  himself  took  his 
patrons  into  his  own  safekeeping  and  their  secrets 
along  with  them. 

Little  Corners  was  not  a  town  of  savoury  repu- 
tation.    Law-abiding  folks  gave  it  a  wide  berth; 

192 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    193 

tourists  found  nothing  interesting  there,  and  new- 
comers, of  a  permanent  type,  were  discouraged.  For 
these  reasons  it  was  the  place  of  all  places  for  Mr. 
John  Boswell  to  enter,  by  way  of  the  long,  middle 
finger,  and  meet  Priscilla  Glenn,  who  advanced  via 
the  thumb.  No  one  would  know  them ;  no  one  would 
remember  them  an  hour  after  they  departed. 

Timothy  was  bustling  about  on  a  certain  Sunday 
morning,  ruminating  on  the  thanklessness  of  the 
task  of  getting  ready  for  people  who  might  never 
appear,  when,  to  his  delight,  he  saw  a  team  of  weary 
horses  advancing.  He  had  time  only  to  put  his 
features  in  order  for  business  when  a  man  entered 
the  room. 

No  one  but  Goodale  could  have  taken  the  shock 
of  the  traveller's  personality  in  just  the  way  he  did. 
The  smile  froze  on  his  face,  his  eyes  beamed,  and  his 
stiff,  red  hair  seemed  bristling  with  welcome.  "Ad- 
vance agent  of  a  circus,"  he  thought;  "sort  of  ad- 
vertising guy." 

The  man  who  had  entered  was  about  three  feet 
tall,  horribly  twisted  as  to  legs,  and  humped  as  to 
back  and  chest.  The  long,  thin  arms  reached  below 
the  bent  knees,  and  large,  white  hands  dangled 
from  them  as  if  attached  by  wires.  The  big  head, 
set  low  on  the  shoulders,  seemed  to  have  no  con- 
necting link  of  neck.  It  was  a  great,  shaggy  head 
with  deep-set,  wonderful  eyes,  sensitive  mouth  and 
chin,  and  a  handsome  nose. 


194  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Ah,  sir,  delighted,"  said  Goodale.  "Shall  I  tell 
your  driver  to  go  to  the  stables?" 

"I'm  my  own  driver,  but  I'd  like  your  man  to  see 
to  the  horses.  I'm  John  Boswell  from  New  York, 
though  you'll  probably  forget  that  an  hour  after  I 
leave." 

Goodale  nodded.  This  was  quite  in  his  line,  and 
he  suddenly  became  aware  of  the  exquisite  texture 
and  quality  of  the  stranger's  clothing;  the  fineness 
of  the  piping  voice.  All  sorts  came  to  the  inn, 
but  this  last  comer  was  a  gentleman,  for  all  his 
defects. 

"I'm  expecting  a  young  woman,  a  distant  rela- 
tive, from  farther  back  in  Canada.  I  shall  await 
her  here.  My  stay  is  uncertain.  Make  me  as  com- 
fortable as  you  can;  I  like  to  be  comfortable." 

"You  —  you  are  alone,  sir?" 

"Until  the  young  lady  comes,  yes.  She  is  to 
return  to  the  States  with  me.  It  depends  upon  her 
how  soon  we  travel  back." 

This  did  away  with  the  show  business,  but  it  added 
romance  to  the  adventure. 

Goodale  made  Boswell  extremely  comfortable, 
surprisingly  so.  Two  bedrooms  were  got  in  order 
as  if  by  magic;  a  little  sitting-room  emerged  from 
behind  closed  doors;  an  apartment  quite  detached 
and  cozy,  with  a  generous  fireplace  and  accommoda- 
tions for  private  meals. 

After  a  good  dinner  Boswell  went  for  a  stroll, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    195 

telling  his  host  to  make  the  young  lady  welcome 
upon  her  arrival. 

At  half-past  four  Priscilla  Glenn  walked  into  the 
office  of  the  inn.  She  was  tired  and  worn,  rather 
unkempt  as  to  appearance,  but  she  stepped  erect 
nnd  with  some  dignity. 

"Is  —  is  Mr.  Boswell  here?"  she  asked. 

"He  is,  and  then  again  he  ain't,"  smiled  Timothy, 
who  was  always  playful  with  women  when  he  wasn't 
brutal.  None  knew  better  than  he  the  use  and 
abuse  of  chivalry. 

"You  are  to  make  yourself  at  home,  Miss;  then 
I'll  serve  tea  in  the  sitting  parlour;  all  quite  your  own 
and  no  fear  of  intrusion.  I'm  host  and  servant  to 
my  guests.  I  never  trust  them  to  —  to  menials." 

"Where's  my  room?"  Priscilla  broke  in  abruptly. 
She  was  near  the  breaking-point  and  she  longed  for 
privacy  and  shelter  before  she  collapsed.  Her  tone 
and  manner  antagonized  Good  ale.  He  understood 
and  recognized  only  two  classes  of  women,  and  this 
girl's  attitude  did  not  fit  either  class.  In  silence  he 
showed  her  to  her  bedchamber,  and  once  the  door 
separated  him  from  her  his  smile  departed  and  he  re- 
lieved his  feelings  by  muttering  a  name  not  compli- 
mentary to  Mr.  Boswell's  relative. 

The  sense  of  safety,  warmth,  and  creature  com- 
forts speedily  brought  about  courage  and  hope  to 
Priscilla;  a  childish  curiosity  consumed  her;  she  was 
disappointed  that  Boswell  did  not  present  himself, 


196  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

but  his  absence  gave  her  time  for  rallying  her  forces. 
She  found  her  way  to  the  little  sitting-room  by  six 
o'clock,  and,  to  her  delight,  saw  that  tea  things  were 
on  a  table  by  the  hearth  and  a  kettle  was  boiling 
over  the  fire. 

"And  so  —  this  is  Miss  Priscilla  Glenn?" 

So  noiselessly  had  the  man  entered  the  room 
through  the  open  door,  so  kind  and  gentle  his 
voice,  that,  though  the  girl  started,  she  felt  no  fear 
until  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  speaker.  Boswell 
waited.  He  knew  what  must  follow.  Readjustment 
always  took  time.  In  this  case  the  time  might  be 
longer  because  of  the  crudity  of  the  girl. 

"Ah!"  The  shuddering  word  escaped  the  trem- 
bling lips  and  the  tightly  clasped  hands  that  had 
instinctively  gone  to  the  face.  "Ah!" 

The  man  by  the  door  sent  forth  a  pitiful  appeal 
for  mercy  and  acceptance  in  so  sweet  and  rare  a 
smile  that  for  very  shame  Priscilla  stood  up  and 
smiled  back  wanly  and  apologetically. 

Boswell  liked  the  attempt  and  ready  willingness; 
they  showed  character. 

"Now  that  that  is  over,"  he  said  in  his  strange, 
fine  voice,  "we  may  sit  down  and  be  friends.  May 
we  not?" 

"I  will  make  fresh  tea  for  you  —  please  let  me!'J 
for  Boswell  was  waving  aside  the  suggestion. 

"  Very  well !  Weak  —  just  flavoured  water.  Now, 
then!" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    197 

The  sidling  form  edged  to  the  deep  chair  beside 
the  hearth  and  scrambled  up,  using  both  hands  as  a 
child  does.  Priscilla  kept  her  eyes  upon  her  task 
and  struggled  for  composure. 

"I  —  I  suppose  Max  —  I  mean  Farwell  —  did  not 
describe  me?" 

"No,  sir." 

"It  was  mistaken  kindness.  My  friends  have  a 
habit  of  doing  that.  They  think  to  spare  me;  it 
only  makes  it  harder.  Try  to  forget,  as  soon  as 
you  can,  my  ugly  shell;  I  am  commonplace  be- 
neath." 

The  pathos  of  this  almost  brought  tears  to  Pris- 
cilla Glenn's  eyes.  Her  warm,  sympathetic  nature 
responded  generously. 

"I  —  I  am  very  sorry  I  gave  you  pain,  sir.  For- 
give me!" 

"We  will  not  mention  it  again.  If  you  can  think 
of  me  as  —  a  man,  a  friend  who  wishes  to  help  you 
for  another  friend's  sake,  you  will  honour  me  and 
make  easier  your  own  position.  You  see,  you  are  no 
stranger  to  me;  I  have  the  advantage  of  you.  Far- 
well  has  kept  me  in  touch  with  you  from  your  child- 
hood up.  You  have  amused  him,  helped  him  to 
bear  many  things  that  would  have  been  harder  for 
him  without  you.  I  thank  you  for  this.  I  am  Far- 
well's  friend.  Why,  do  you  know"  —  and  now  the 
deep  eyes  glowed  kindly  —  "he  has  even  told  me  of 
that  original  religion  you  evolved  from  your  needs; 


198   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

he  pictured  the  strange  god  you  worshipped.  I've 
laughed  over  that  many  times." 

"Your  tea  is  getting  cold,  sir." 

Priscilla  was  gaining  control  of  her  emotions,  and 
John  Boswell's  evident  determination  to  place  her  in 
a  comfortable  position  won  her  gratitude  and  admi- 
ration. 

"I  like  cold  tea;  the  colder  and  weaker  the  better. 
Thank  you.  Let  the  cup  stand  on  the  table;  I  will 
help  myself  presently.  I  sincerely  hope  we,  you  and 
I,  are  going  to  be  friends.  It  would  hurt  Farwell  so 
if  we  were  not." 

"How  good  you  are!" 

"Yes.  Goodness  is  —  my  profession."  The  drol- 
lery in  the  voice  was  more  touching  than  amus- 
ing. "I  call  myself  the  Property  Man.  I  help 
people  artistically,  when  I  can.  It  is  my  one 
pleasure,  and  I  find  it  most  exciting.  You  will 
learn,  now  that  you  have  taken  your  place  on 
the  stage  of  life,  that  the  Property  Man  is  very 
important." 

In  this  light  talk,  half  serious,  half  playful,  he 
reassured  Priscilla  and  claimed  for  himself  what  his 
deformity  often  retarded. 

"Already  you  seem  my  friend.  Mr.  Farwell  said 
you  would  be." 

Priscilla's  eyes  did  not  shrink  now.  The  soul  of 
the  man  had,  in  some  subtle  fashion,  transformed 
him.  She  began  to  succumb  to  that  power  of  Bos- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    199 

well's  that  had  held  many  men  and  women  even 
against  their  wills. 

"Farwell  was  always  a  dramatic  fellow,"  the  weak 
voice  continued.  "When  he  sent  me  word,  I 
wanted  to  go  direct  to  Kenmore;  I  wanted  to  see  him 
after  all  these  years.  But  he  had  made  his  own 
plans  in  his  own  way.  There  were  —  reasons." 

Priscilla  looked  bravely  in  the  thin,  kindly  face. 
She  remembered  that  Farwell  had  said  that  she 
need  tell  nothing  more  than  she  cared  to,  but  an 
overpowering  desire  was  growing  upon  her  to  confide 
everything  to  this  friend  of  an  hour.  His  deep, 
true  eyes,  fixed  upon  her,  were  challenging  every 
doubt,  every  reserve. 

"Farwell  says  you  dance  like  a  sprite." 

At  this  Priscilla  started  as  if  from  sleep. 

"Ah!  a  childish  bit  of  play,"  she  said.  "I  — I 
have  almost  forgotten  how  to  dance." 

"I  hope  you  will  never  forget.  To  dance  and  sing 
and  laugh  should  be  the  heritage  of  all  young  things. 
You  must  forget  to  be  serious,  past  the  safety  point! 
That's  where  danger  lies.  It  does  not  pay  to  take 
our  parts  ponderously.  I  learned  that  long  ago." 

"I  shall  be  —  happy  after  a  while."  And  now, 
quite  simply  and  frankly,  Priscilla  cast  away  her 
anchors  of  caution  and  timidity  and  spoke  openly: 

"I  —  I  have  been  so  troubled.  Things  have 
happened  to  me  that  should  not  have  happened  if  — 
if  my  mother  and  father  could  have  trusted  in  me. 


200  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

They  believed  —  wrong  of  me  when  really  they 
should  have  pitied  me.  You  trust  me?'* 

"Absolutely/' 

"Master  Farwell  trusted  me.  As  things  were,  the 
only  comfort  I  could  give  my  poor  parents  was  to 
let  them  think  I  left  Kenmore  with  —  with  a  young 
man.  Something  had  occurred  that  —  looked  wrong. 
It  was  only  a  terrible  experience.  No  one  helped  me 
but  Master  Farwell.  My  —  my  people  turned  from 
me." 

"It  was  Farwell's  way:  to  help  where  he  had 
faith,"  murmured  Boswell. 

The  deep  eyes  were  so  perilously  kind  that  Pris- 
cilla  had  to  struggle  to  keep  back  her  tears.  A 
sense  of  security  and  peace  flooded  her  heart,  but 
the  past  strain  had  left  its  mark. 

"My  father  would  have  been  glad  to  have  me 
marry  the  —  the  man.  I  would  rather  have  died 
after  what  happened!  They  —  my  father  and 
mother  —  must  believe  I  have  gone  with  him.  It 
will  at  least  make  them  feel  I  have  not  disgraced 
them.  Now  —  you  can  understand ! " 

"Perfectly."   ' 

"I  want  to  go  into  training.  I  want  to  be  a  nurse. 
I  am  sure  I  can  succeed." 

So  very  humble  and  modest  was  the  ambition 
that  it  quite  took  Boswell  by  surprise.  Priscilla 
did  not  notice  the  uplifting  of  the  shaggy  brows. 
She  went  on  eagerly,  thoughtfully: 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    201 

"You  see,  I  have  only  such  education  as  Master 
Farwell  has  given  me,  but  I  have  a  ready  mind,  he 
says.  I  am  sure  I  could  watch  and  tend  the  sick. 
A  lady  staying  in  Kenmore  at  one  time  told  me  I  had 
the  —  the  touch  of  a  skilled  hand.  I  want  —  to  help 
the  world,  somehow,  and  this  seems  the  only  way 
open  to  a  girl  like  me.  I  am  strong;  I  never  tire. 
Yes;  I  want  to  be  a  nurse,  the  best  one  I  can  be." 

Boswell  understood  the  deeper  truth.  This  girl, 
original,  artistic,  was  foregoing  much  in  accepting 
this  safe,  humble  course.  She  expected  no  charity, 
nothing  but  a  helpful  interest.  It  was  unusual  and 
delightful. 

"I  have  a  hundred  dollars  that  Master  Fanvell 
gave  me.  It  will  help,  and  I  can  repay  it  by  and  by. 
I  know  it  will  be  years  before  I  can  do  so,  but  he 
understands.  While  I  am  studying  there  will  be 
little  expense,  the  lady  told  me.  And  oh!"  —  here 
Priscilla  interrupted  herself  suddenly  —  "I  have 
an  errand  to  do  for  Master  Farwell  as  soon  as  I 
get  to  New  York.  He  told  me  you  —  would  help 


me." 


"An  errand?" 

"Yes.  There  is  a  —  woman  he  once  —  loved; 
loves  still.  She  thinks  he  —  is  dead.  It  was  best 
so  in  the  past.  There  was  a  reason  for  letting  her 
believe  so;  but  now  he  wants  her  —  to  know! " 

Boswell  sprang  up  in  his  chair  as  if  he  were  on  a 
strong  spring. 


202   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Wants  you  to  go  and  tell  her  —  that  he  still 
lives?" 

"Yes.     It  will  be  hard,  but  I  will  do  it  for  him." 

Boswell  settled  back  in  his  seat. 

"I  thought  he  only  meant  her  to  know  —  when 
he  could  go  himself,"  he  said  quietly. 

"He  made  me  promise." 

Boswell  leaned  forward  and  drew  the  cup  from  the 
table,  and  in  one  long  draught  drank  the  cold,  weak 
tea.  When  he  spoke  again  the  conversation  was  set 
in  a  different  channel. 

"I  hardly  know  what  I  expected  to  find  you,  Miss 
Glenn,"  he  said  with  his  rare,  sweet  smile.  "You 
evidently  seemed  more  a  child  to  Farwell  than  you 
do  to  me.  That  was  natural.  Now  that  we  have 
become  acquainted  I  hope  you  will  accept  my  help 
and  hospitality  until  your  own  plans  are  formed.  I 
can  make  you  very  comfortable  in  my  town  home. 
I  am  sure  I  can  place  you  in  the  best  training  school 
in  the  city;  I  have  some  influence  there.  But  before 
you  settle  to  your  hard  work  you  will  let  me  play 
host,  as  Farwell  would  in  my  place  ?  This  would  be  a 
great  pleasure  to  me." 

What  there  was  in  the  words  and  tone  Priscilla  could 
never  tell,  but  at  once  the  future  seemed  secure, 
and  the  present  placed  on  a  sound  foundation.  Every 
disturbing  element  was  eliminated  and  the  whole 
situation  put  upon  a  perfectly  commonplace  basis. 
By  a  quick  transition  the  unreality  was  swept  aside. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    203 

"Indeed,  I  will  be  glad  to  accept." 

They  smiled  quite  frankly  and  happily  at  each 
other. 

"An  odd  story  occurs  to  me."  Boswell  pressed 
back  in  his  chair  and  his  face  was  in  shadow.  "You 
must  get  used  to  my  stories  and  plays.  The  Prop- 
erty Man  must  have  his  sport.  There  was  once  a 
garden,  very  beautiful,  very  desirable,  but  full  of 
traps  to  the  unwary.  Quite  unexpectedly,  one  day, 
a  particularly  fine  butterfly  found  herself  poised  on 
the  branch  of  a  tree  with  a  soaring  ambition  in  her 
heart,  but  a  blind  sense  of  danger,  also.  It  was  a 
wise  butterfly,  by  way  of  change.  While  it  hesi- 
tated, a  beetle  crawled  along  and  offered  its  services 
as  guide.  The  pretty,  bright  thing  was  sane  enough 
to  accept.  Do  you  follow?" 

Priscilla  started.  She  had  been  caught  in  the  mesh 
of  the  story,  and  now  with  a  sudden  realization 
of  its  underlying  thought  she  flushed  and  laughed. 

"I  still  have  my  childish  delight  in  stories,  you 
see,"  she  said.  Then,  "I  —  I  do  see  what  you  mean. 
Again  I  repeat,  I  am  so  glad  to  accept  your  —  your 
kindness." 

"Middle  life  has  its  disadvantages."  The  voice 
from  out  the  shadows  sounded  weary.  "It  has 
none  of  the  blindness  of  youth  and  none  of  the  assur- 
ance of  old  age.  If  I  were  twenty,  you  and  I  could 
play  together  in  the  Garden;  if  I  were  ninety  I  could 
tuck  you  safely  away  in  my  nest  and  feed  you  on 


204  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

dainties,  and  no  one  could  say  a  word.  As  it  is  — 
well,  we'll  do  the  best  we  can,  and,  after  you  are  in 
your  training,  you'll  be  glad  enough  to  have  my  nest 
to  fly  to  for  a  change  of  air  and  an  opportunity  to 
chat  with  me.  The  Property  Man  will  come  in 
handy.  Hark!  the  wind  is  rising.  How  it  blows!" 

The  ashes  were  flying  about  on  the  hearth  and 
the  trees  outside  beat  their  branches  against  the 
windows. 

"It  never  roars  like  that  in  the  In-Place,"  whis- 
pered Priscilla,  awed  by  the  sound  and  fury  that 
were  rapidly  gaining  power. 

"The  In-Place?"  Boswell  sighed.  "What  a  blessed 
name!  To  think  of  any  one  fluttering  about  in  the 
dangerous  Garden  when  he  or  she  might  remain  in 
the  In-Place!" 

There  was  a  tap  on  the  door,  and  in  reply  to 
Boswell's  "Come!"  Goodale  entered. 

"Shall  I  serve  supper  now,  sir?" 

"Yes." 

"Inhere?" 

"No;  in  the  dining-room."  Then,  "How  far  is  it 
to  the  railway  station?" 

"Twenty-six  miles,  sir." 

"It  seemed  like  a  hundred.  Can  the  team  make 
it  to-morrow  if  the  storm  ceases  ? " 

"They  look  capable,  sir." 

"Then  we  will  start  to-morrow  for  the  States." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PRISCILLA  GLENN  always  looked  back  on 
the  next  four  weeks  of  her  life  as  a  transi- 
tion stage  between  one  incarnation  and  an- 
other. Kenmore,  and  that  which  had  gone  to  the 
making  of  her  life  previous  to  her  meeting  with  John 
Boswell,  seemed  to  have  accomplished  their  purpose 
and  left  her  detached  and  finished,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  for  the  next  period  of  her  existence.  In  the 
severing  of  all  the  ties  of  the  past,  even  affection, 
gratitude,  and  memory,  for  the  time  being,  were  held 
in  abeyance.  This  was  a  merciful  state,  for,  had 
ordinary  emotions  and  sentiments  held  her,  she 
would  have  been  unfitted  for  the  difficult  task  of 
readjustment  which  she  gradually  achieved,  simply 
because  of  her  dulled  mental  and  spiritual  sensations. 
The  noise  and  flash  of  the  big  city  bewildered  and 
dazzled  the  girl  from  the  In-Place  and  encrusted 
her  with  an  unreality  that  spared  her  many  a  pang  of 
loss,  and  also  fear  for  the  future.  Boswell's  apart- 
ment, high  above  the  street  and  overlooking  the 
Hudson  River  and  Palisades,  became  a  veritable 
sanctuary  from  which  she  dreaded  to  emerge  and  to 
which  she  clung  in  a  passion  of  self-preservation. 

205 


206   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

The  gray  wall  of  stone  across  the  sparkling  stream 
grew  to  be,  in  her  vivid  fancy,  the  barrier  between 
the  past  and  future.  Against  it,  unseen,  faint,  but 
persistent,  beat  what  once  had  been  —  her  grim 
father,  her  weak,  tearful  mother,  lonely,  kindly 
Master  Farwell,  and  all  the  lesser  folk  of  Kenmore. 
Pressing  close  and  straining  to  hold  her,  these  dim, 
shadowy  memories  clustered,  but  she  no  longer  ap- 
peared a  part  of  them,  like  them,  or  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  them.  On  the  other  hand,  below  the 
eyrie  dwelling  in  which  she  was  temporarily  sheltered, 
lay  the  whirlpool  of  sound  and  motion  into  which, 
sooner  or  later,  she  must  plunge. 

With  keen  appreciation  and  understanding  of 
this  phase  of  her  development,  John  Boswell  kept 
conversation  and  life  upon  the  surface,  and  rarely 
permitted  a  letting-down  of  thought.  Cautiously, 
and  not  too  often,  he  took  his  guest  on  tours  of  in- 
spection and  watched  her  while  she  underwent  new 
ordeals  or  experienced  pain  from  unknown  thrills. 
He  had  never  been  more  interested  or  amused  in  his 
life,  and,  in  his  enthusiasm,  exaggerated  Priscilla's 
capabilities.  He  revelled  in  her  frankness  and  her 
confidence;  he  learned  from  her  more  of  Farwell  than 
he  could  have  learned  in  any  other  way,  and  his 
faithful  heart  throbbed  in  pity,  pride,  and  affection 
for  the  lonely  master  of  the  In-Place,  who,  little 
heeding  his  own  progress,  had  triumphed  over  his 
old  and  lesser  self  at  last. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   207 

The  home  of  Boswell  was  a  large  and  sunny  apart- 
ment high  up  in  the  huge  building.  Only  one  ser- 
vant, a  marvellously  silent  and  efficient  Japanese, 
ran  the  economic  machinery,  awesomely  defended 
Boswell's  library  when  the  master  retired  to  perform 
his  mystic  rites,  and  in  all  relations  was  exemplary. 
Poor  Boswell's  rites  comprised  a  devouring  appetite 
for  reading  and  a  rather  happy  talent  for  turning  off 
a  short  story  as  unique  and  human  as  he  was  himself. 

After  Priscilla  Glenn  arrived,  Toky,  as  the  servant 
was  called,  was  tested  to  the  uttermost.  Never 
before  had  Boswell  introduced  a  woman  into  the 
sphere  sacred  to  Man.  Toky  disapproved,  was  ut- 
terly disgusted;  he  lost  his  implicit  faith  in  his 
master's  wisdom,  but  he  adopted  a  manner  at  once 
so  magnanimous  and  charming  that  Boswell  set  to 
work  and  planned  future  gifts  of  appreciation  for  his 
servant. 

No  other  woman  came  to  the  apartment;  Boswell 
shrank  from  them,  not  bitterly  or  resentfully,  but 
sensitively.  Men  took  him  more  or  less  for  granted 
when  he  touched  their  lives;  women  overdid  the 
determination,  on  their  parts,  to  set  him  at  ease. 
Long  since  he  had  turned  his  poor,  misshapen  back 
upon  the  very  natural  and  legitimate  desire  for  the 
happy  mingling  of  both  sexes,  but  after  Priscilla 
Glenn  became  his  guest  he  recognized  the  need  of 
women  friends  in  a  sharp  and  painful  manner.  They 
could  have  helped  him  so  much;  could  have  solved  so 


208   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

many  problems  for  him  and  the  girl;  but  as  it  was  he 
had  to  do  the  best  he  could  alone. 

The  hundred  dollars,  still  to  be  repaid  to  Farwell, 
worked  wonders  in  the  week  following  the  arrival 
of  the  Beetle  and  the  Butterfly,  as  Boswell  insisted 
upon  calling  himself  and  Priscilla.  Having  no  power 
at  court,  Boswell  cast  himself  on  the  mercy  of  lesser 
folks  and  managed,  by  way  of  secret  nods  and 
whispers,  to  gain  the  cooperation  of  sympathetic- 
looking  shop  girls  in  order  to  array  Priscilla  in  gar- 
ments that  would  secure  her  and  him  from  impudent 
stares  and  offensive  leers.  The  evenings  following 
these  shopping  expeditions  were  devoted  to  "casting 
up  accounts."  Priscilla  was  absolutely  lacking  in 
worldly  wisdom,  but  she  had  a  sense  of  accuracy 
that  drove  Boswell  to  the  outer  edge  of  veracity. 
Never  having  bought  an  article  of  clothing  for  herself, 
Priscilla  attacked  this  new  problem  with  perfectly 
blank  faith.  Prices  often  surprised  and  startled  her 
by  their  smallness,  but  the  results  obtained  were 
gloriously  gratifying. 

"I  can  better  understand  the  lure  of  the  States 
now,  Mr.  Boswell,"  she  said  one  evening  as  the  two 
sat  in  the  library  with  the  wind  howling  down  Bos- 
well's  exaggerations  and  the  fire  illuminating  the  girl's 
face.  "Kenmore  prices  were  impossible,  but  one  can 
go  wild  here  for  so  little.  Just  fancy!  That  whole 
beautiful  suit  for  two  dollars  and  eighty-seven " 

"Eighty-nine!"  Boswell  severely  broke  in,  shaking 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    209 

his  pencil  at  her  as  he  sat  perched,  like  a  benign 
gargoyle,  by  his  study  table.  "I'll  not  have  Farwell 
defrauded  while  he  cannot  protect  his  own  interests." 

"Two  eighty-nine,"  Priscilla  agreed,  with  a  laugh 
so  merry  and  carefree  that  the  listener  dropped  his 
tired  eyes.  "And  how  much  does  that  leave  of  the 
hundred,  Mr.  Boswell?  I  tremble  when  I  think  of 
the  silk  gown  so  soft  and  pretty,  the  slippers  and 
stockings  to  match,  and  the  storm  coat,  umbrella, 
heavy  shoes,  and  —  and  —  other  things." 

Boswell  referred  to  his  notes  and  long  lines  of  fig- 
ures. 

"All  told,  and  in  round  numbers,  there  are  forty- 
seven  dollars  and  three  cents  left." 

"It's  marvellous!  wonderful!"  Priscilla  exclaimed. 
"You  are  sure,  Mr.  Boswell?" 

"Do  you  doubt  me?" 

"Sometimes  I  do,  you  are  so  kind,  so  generous,  and 
under  ordinary  circumstances  it  would  seem  im- 
possible to  buy  things  so  cheap.  You  must  select 
your  shops  carefully." 

"One  has  to  on  a  moderate  allowance." 

Then  quite  suddenly  Priscilla  Glenn  spoke  quickly 
and  breathlessly: 

"Mr.  Boswell,  I  —  I  must  begin  my  training. 
Have  you  made  any  arrangements?  And,  when  I 
go,  will  they  pay  me  from  the  start  ? " 

Boswell  grew  grave  as  he  thought  of  the  knowledge 
that  would  come  concerning  dollars  and  cents  later  on. 


210   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"I  have  started  operations,"  he  replied;  "in  a 
short  time  you  will  be  able  to  begin  your  studies, 
and  I  hear  they  will  pay  you  the  princely  sum  of  ten 
dollars  a  month  from  the  day  you  are  accepted. 
Canadians  are  greatly  in  demand." 

"Ten  dollars!"  gasped  Priscilla,  "Ten  dollars  a 
month!  when  I  think  what  this  hundred  has  done, 
and  the  twelve  months  in  each  year,  it  —  it  dazzles 
me!" 

Boswell  gave  an  uncomfortable  laugh.  In  the 
light  of  nearby  disillusionment  his  practical  joke 
looked  mean  and  ghastly. 

Then,  with  another  abrupt  change  of  thought, 
Priscilla  brought  Boswell  again  at  bay. 

"Before  I  go  into  training,"  she  said,  "I  must  go 
and  see  Master  Farweirs  friend  —  his  old  friend,  you 
know.  I  feel  very  guilty  and  ungrateful,  but  it  has 
all  been  so  strange  and  bewildering,  I  have  seemed 
dead  and  done  for  and  then  born  again,  I  could  not 
help  myself;  but  I  can  now.  Please  tell  me  all  about 
her,  Mr.  Boswell,  and  how  I  can  find  her." 

Boswell  dropped  the  pencil  upon  the  mahogany 
desk  and  looked  blankly  at  Priscilla. 

"Let  us  sit  by  the  fire,"  he  said  presently,  "I 
am  cold  and  —  tired.  Turn  down  the  lights." 

They  took  their  positions  near  the  hearth:  the 
dwarf  in  his  low,  deep  leather  chair  with  its  wide 
"wings  "  that  hid  him  so  mercifully;  Priscilla  in  the 
small  rocker  that  from  the  first  had  seemed  to  meet 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    211 

every  curve  and  line  of  her  long,  young  body  with 
restful  welcome. 

"And  now,"  Priscilla  urged,  "please  tell  me.  I 
feel,  to-night,  like  myself  once  more.  I  am  adjusted 
to  the  new  life,  I  hope,  ready  to  do  my  part." 

When  John  Boswell  cast  aside  his  whimsical 
phase  he  was  a  very  simple  and  direct  man.  He, 
too,  was  becoming  adjusted  to  Priscilla's  presence 
in  his  home  and  her  rightful  demands  upon  him. 

"Yes,  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said  slowly,  wearily. 

"Perhaps  you  are  too  tired  to-night,  Mr.  Boswell? 
To-morrow  will  do." 

"No.  I  never  sleep  when  the  wind  howls;  it  gets 
into  my  imagination.  I'd  rather  talk.  The  thing 
I  have  to  tell  you  —  is  what  I  shall  tell  Farwell  if  I 
ever  see  him  again.  It's  rather  a  bungling  thing  I've 
done.  I'll  receive  my  reward,  doubtlessly,  but  I 
would  do  the  same,  were  I  placed  in  the  same  posi- 
tion, over  and  over  again. 

"Farwell  Maxwell,  known  to  you  as  Anton  Far- 
well,  has  been  part,  the  biggest  part,  of  my  life  since 
we  were  young  boys.  We  were  about  as  pitiful  a 
contrast  as  can  be  imagined,  and  for  that  reason  met 
each  other's  needs  more  completely.  We  had  only 
one  thing  in  common  —  money.  He  was  a  straight, 
handsome  fellow,  while  I  was  —  what  you  see  before 
you  —  a  crooked,  distorted  creature,  but  one  in 
whose  heart  and  soul  dwelt  all  the  cravings  and  as- 
pirations of  youth  and  intelligence.  I  was  alone  in 


212   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

the  world.  My  father  died  before  my  birth,  and 
I  cost  my  mother  —  her  life.  Farwell  had,  until 
he  was  twenty,  an  adoring  though  foolish  mother, 
who  laid  undue  emphasis  upon  his  rights  and  privi- 
leges. She,  and  an  older  brother,  died  when  he  was 
twenty-one  —  died  before  the  trouble  came,  but 
not  before  they  had  done  all  they  could  to  train  him 
for  it.  At  twenty-one  he  was  a  selfish,  hot-headed 
fellow  with  a  fortune  at  his  command,  a  confused 
sense  of  right  and  wrong,  an  ungoverned,  artistic 
nature  swayed  by  impulse,  and,  yes,  honest  affec- 
tion and  generous  flashes.  And  I?  Well,  I  found 
I  could  buy  with  my  money  what  otherwise  I  must 
have  gone  without,  but  the  shadow  never  counted 
for  the  substance  with  me.  The  fawning  favour, 
which  held  its  sneer  in  check,  filled  me  with  disgust, 
and  I  would  have  been  a  bitter,  lonely  fellow  but  - 
for  Farwell. 

"I  never  could  quite  understand  him;  I  do  not 
to-day,  but  he,  from  the  beginning,  did  not  seem  to 
recognize  or  admit  my  limitations.  Through  pre- 
paratory school  and  college  we  went  side  by  side. 
He  called  me  by  the  frank  and  brutal  names  that 
boys  and  men  only  use  to  equals.  I  wonder  if  you 
can  understand  when  I  say  that  to  hear  him  address 
me  as  an  infernal  coward,  when  I  shrank  from  certain 
things,  was  about  the  highest  compliment  I  knew?" 

"Yes,"  murmured  Priscilla,  "I  can  understand 
that."  She  could  not  see  Boswell;  the  low,  im- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   213 

passioned  words  came  from  out  the  shadows  like 
thoughts.  "Yes,  I  can  quite  understand  how  you 
felt." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  can,  for  then  you  will  see  — 
why  I  have  done  —  what  I  could  for  Farwell  — 
when  he  needed  me.  Back  in  those  old  days  he  was 
not  content  to  shame  me  into  playing  my  part;  by 
that  power  of  his,  that  worked  both  good  and  evil, 
he  compelled  others,  in  accepting  him,  to  accept  me 
on  equal  terms.  There  was  a  seat  for  me  at  the 
tables  to  which  he  was  invited;  he  discovered  my  poor 
talent  for  telling  a  story,  and  somehow  hypnotized 
others  into  considering  me  a  wit !  A  wit ! " 

A  silence  fell  between  the  two  by  the  fire.  Pris- 
cilla's  throat  was  hard  and  dry,  her  heart  aching  with 
pity. 

"And  then,"  Boswell  continued  drearily,  "the 
crash  came  when  he  was  only  twenty-five!  I  sup- 
pose he  was  savagely  primitive.  That  was  why 
externals  did  not  count  so  much  with  him.  He 
could  not  brook  opposition,  especially  if  injustice 
marked  it;  he  was  never  able  to  estimate  or  eliminate. 
He  was  like  a  child  when  an  obstacle  presented  itself. 
If  he  could  not  get  around  it,  he  attacked  it  with 
blind  passion. 

"It  was  part  of  his  nature  to  espouse  the  cause  of 
the  weak  and  needy;  that  was  what  held  him,  un- 
consciously, to  me;  it  was  what  attracted  him  to  Joan 
Moss." 


214  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

The  name  fell  upon  Priscilla's  mind  like  a  shock. 
The  story  was  nearing  the  crisis. 

"She  was  outwardly  beautiful;  inwardly  she  was 
as  deformed  —  as  I!  But  in  neither  case  was  he 
ever  able  to  get  the  right  slant.  He  loved  us  both 
in  his  splendid,  uncritical  way.  His  love  brought  me 
to  his  feet  in  abject  devotion:  it  lured  the  woman  to 
accomplish  his  destruction.  Something,  some  one, 
menaced  her!  He  tried  to  sweep  the  evil  aside, 
but " 

"Yes,  yes,  please  go  on!"  Priscilla  was  breathless. 

"Well,  he  couldn't  sweep  it  aside;  so  he  committed 
—  murder." 

"Oh!  Mr.  Boswell!" 

The  shuddering  cry  drew  Boswell  to  the  present. 
He  remembered  that  his  listener  knew  Farwell  only 
as  a  friend  and  gentle  comrade.  Her  shock  was  nat- 
ural. 

"You  —  you  never  guessed?  Why  do  you  think 
he,  that  brilliant  fellow,  stayed  hidden  like  a  dead 
thing  all  these  years?"  —  there  was  a  quiver  in 
Boswell's  voice  -  "hidden  so  deep  that  —  not  even 
I  dared  to  go  to  him  for  fear  I  would  be  followed  and 
he  again  trapped!  Oh!  'twas  an  ugly  thing  he  did; 
but  he  was  driven  to  insanity  —  even  his  judges  be- 
lieved that  —  at  the  last;  but  his  victim  was  too 
big  a  man  to  go  unavenged,  so  they  hunted  Farwell 
down,  caught  him  in  a  trap,  and  tried  to  finish  him, 
but  he  got  away  and  they  thought  him  —  dead." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   215 

"  Yes,  yes,"  moaned  Priscilla,  "yes,  I  know.  And 
the  woman  —  did  her  heart  break  ?  " 

At  this  Boswell  leaned  forward,  and,  in  the  fire's 
glow,  Priscilla  saw  his  face  grow  cruel  and  hard. 

"Her  heart  break?  No,  she  went  promptly  to 
the  devil,  once  she  was  sure  she  had  lost  Farwell  and 
his  money.  Down  to  the  last  hope  she  made  him 
believe  in  her.  How  she  acted!  But  when  he  was 
reported  dead,  well!"  —  and  Boswell  gave  a  harsh 
laugh  —  "her  heart  did  not  break!" 

A  sound  brought  Boswell  back  to  the  dim  room. 

"You  are  —  crying?"  he  said  slowly;  "crying  for 
him?" 

"  For  him,  yes,  and  for  you ! " 

"For  me?"  -a  wonderful  tenderness  stole  into 
the  man's  voice  —  "for  me?  I  do  not  think  any 
one  before  —  ever  cried  for  me.  Thank  you.  You 
understand  what  all  this  meant  to  me?  What  a  — 
woman  you  will  be  —  if 

Priscilla  raised  her  tear-stained  face  and  her  lips 
quivered  as  she  recalled  that  Farwell  had  said  almost 
exactly  the  same  words  to  her  back  there  in  the  In- 
Place.  She  understood  because  she  had  been  lonely 
and  known  the  suffering  of  the  lonely.  She  must 
never  forget,  never  fail  those  who  needed  her!  But 
Boswell  was  talking  on  again  with  a  new  note  of 
feeling  in  his  voice. 

"While  I  thought  him  dead  I  sank  back  into  my 
shell,  sank  lower  than  I  had  ever  been  before.  I 


216   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

wanted  to  die;  wanted  it  so  truly  that  I  planned  it; 
grew  interested  in  arranging  my  affairs.  Preparing 
to  die  became  my  excitement,  and  when  everything 
was  ready,  Farwell  spoke  to  me  —  from  his  grave! 
That  letter  from  your  In-Place  worked  a  miracle 
upon  me.  While  he  lived  there  would  always  be 
something  for  me  to  do.  He  had  made  a  place  in  the 
world  for  me;  I  could  keep  his  place  ready  for  him. 
It  was  a  small  return,  but  it  meant  life  —  for  me. 

"There  were  years  when  Farwell  felt  he  was  com- 
ing back.  I  heard  from  him  spring  and  autumn,  and 
there  were  hope  and  promise  each  time.  When  peo- 
ple forgot,  he  would  return,  and  he  wanted  to  go  to 
—  to  Joan  Moss  himself  with  his  story.  So  long 
as  he  knew  that  she  was  alive  and  faithful  it  was 
enough,  and,  besides,  he  realized  that  had  she  or  I 
gone  to  him  just  then  it  might  have  been  fatal. 
He  believed  that  if  she  knew  where  he  was  she  would 
hasten  to  him! 

"Well,  just  at  first  I  thought  that  he  might  come 
at  any  time  and  might  rescue  —  Joan  Moss.  I  was 
even  willing  for  him  to  have  her  if  it  could  add  any 
happiness  to  him.  Then  there  was  the  money  —  his 
money.  I  kept  his  belief  in  that,  too.  Everything 
of  his  went  at  the  time  of  the  trial,  but  mine  was  his, 
so  that  was  a  small  matter.  I  suppose  all  the  senti- 
ment and  passion  that  most  men  spread  over  their 
entire  lives  were,  in  me,  concentrated  on  Farwell. 
When  I  thought  of  him  caged  and  alone,  in  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   217 

wilds,  I  found  lying  to  him  about  the  only  thing  I 
could  do.  So  I  kept  his  belief  in  Joan  Moss  and  his 
fortune.  Then  something  happened  to  him.  I 
never  knew  what  it  was,  but  it  seemed  to  take  all 
the  hope  and  courage  from  him.  He  wanted  me  to 
see  that  Joan  Moss  was  well  taken  care  of,  and  in 
case  of  his  death  she  must  have  all  that  he  died 
possessed  of.  Just  at  that  time  Joan  Moss  came  to 
me,  a  wreck!  She  lived  only  six  months,  but  for  his 
sake  I  saw  that  she  had  all  that  he  would  have  had 
for  her.  She  thought  that  he  gave  it  to  her,  too,  or 
at  least  she  thought  his  money  gave  it,  since  it  was  in 
his  will  that  she  should  have  it.  His  name  was  on 
her  lips  when  the  end  came.  I  will  tell  him  that 
some  day.  It  will  help  him  to  forgive  me.  After 
that  I  wrote  and  wrote  to  him,  making  frantic  efforts 
to  secure  to  him,  until  he  were  free,  what  existed 
no  longer  on  earth!  That  is  all." 

The  fire  had  died  down  and  become  ashy;  the 
wind  no  longer  howled;  the  night  had  fallen  into 
peace  at  last. 

Priscilla  got  up  stiffly,  for  she  was  cold  and  nerve- 
worn.  She  walked  unsteadily  to  Boswell,  her  tear- 
stained  face  twitching  with  emotion,  her  hands  out- 
stretched. In  her  eyes  was  the  look  that  only  once 
or  twice  in  his  life  had  Boswell  ever  seen  directed 
toward  him  by  any  human  being  —  the  look  that 
claimed  the  hidden  and  best  in  him,  forgetting  the 
deformities  that  limited  him. 


2i 8  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"I  think  you  are  the  best  man  on  earth,  the  noblest 
friend.  Oh!  what  can  we  do  for  Master  Farwell?" 

Quite  simply  Boswell  took  the  hands  in  his.  Her 
eyes  made  him  brave  and  strong,  and  her  "we" 
throbbed  in  his  thoughts  like  a  warm  and  tender 
caress. 

"You  must  leave  that  to  me,"  he  said  gently,  giv- 
ing his  kindly  smile.  "I  cannot  share  this  burden 
with  you.  So  long  have  I  borne  it  that  it  has  be- 
come sacred  to  me.  It  means  only  making  the  story 
a  little  longer,  a  little  stronger.  Some  day  he  will 
have  to  know  —  some  day;  but  not  now!  not  now!" 

Just  then  a  distant  church  bell  struck  the  midnight 
hour.  Solemnly,  insistently,  the  twelve  strokes  rose 
and  fell. 

"The  wind  has  passed,"  whispered  Boswell. 

"Yes,  and  the  fire  is  dead.  You  are  very,  very 
tired,  I  am  sure,"  Priscilla  murmured. 

Something  new  and  maternal  had  entered  into 
her  thought  and  voice.  While  life  lasted  she  was 
always  to  see  in  the  crippled  man  a  brave  and  patient 
soul  who  played  with  sternest  problems  because  he 
had  no  other  toys  with  which  to  while  away  his 
dreary  years;  no  other  offerings  for  them  he  loved. 

"Yes.  The  play  is  over  for  —  to-night.  The 
Property  Man  can  take  his  rest  until  —  to-morrow. 
Turn  on  the  lights,  Priscilla  Glenn.  You  and  I 
must  find  our  way  out  of  the  darkness." 

"Let  me  help  you,  Mr.  Boswell." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   219 

"Help  me?  That  sounds  very  kind.  I  will  make 
believe  that  I  am  ninety!  Yes,  you  may  help  me. 
Thank  you!  And  now  good  night.  You  need  not 
write  of — Joan  Moss  to  Farwell.  I  am  grateful 
because  you  understand  and  appreciate  my  —  my 
attempt.  I  can  bring  the  tale  to  a  close  in  great 
style.  I  was  a  bit  discouraged,  but  it  seems  clear 
and  convincing  now.  That  is  often  the  way  in  my 
trade  of  story-maker.  We  come  against  a  blank 
wall,  only  to  find  there  a  gateway  that  opens  to  our 
touch." 


CHAPTER  XV 

ATER  Boswell's  confidence  concerning  Anton 
Farwell,  Priscilla's  relation  to  the  man  who 
had  befriended  her,  to  life  itself,  became 
more  vital  and  normal.  The  superficial  conditions 
were  dissipated  by  the  knowledge  that  Boswell,  in 
speaking  so  frankly  to  her,  considered  her  a  woman, 
not  a  child,  and  expected  a  woman's  acceptance  of 
duties  and  responsibilities.  Besides  this,  Boswell 
himself  took  on  new  proportions.  His  whimsical 
oddities  had  been,  for  an  hour,  set  aside.  For  a  time 
he  had  permitted  her  to  see  and  know  him  —  the 
simple,  good  man  he  really  was.  In  short,  Priscilla 
could  no  longer  play,  could  no  longer  make  a  defence 
of  her  shyness  and  ignorance;  she  realized  that  she 
must  plunge  into  the  whirlpool  for  which  she  had  left 
the  In-Place  and  she  must  do  so  at  once. 

Boswell  might  fantastically  play  at  being  ninety 
and  permit  her  to  lend  her  strength  and  youth  to  his 
use,  but  she  never  again  could  be  deceived.  He  was 
assisting  her  for  Farwell's  sake.  He  liked  her,  found 
her  entertaining,  but  intuitively  she  knew  that  in 
order  to  retain  his  respect  and  confidence  she  must 
fulfil  her  part. 

230 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    221 

For  a  week  or  so  longer  he  and  she  went  to  operas 
and  theatres  together  while  final  arrangements  were 
being  completed  for  her  immediate  admittance,  on 
trial,  to  the  finest  private  hospital  in  the  city,  to 
which  was  attached  a  training  school  of  high  repute. 

Priscilla  was  both  right  and  wrong  about  Boswell. 
He  did  appreciate  and  admire  her  insistence  to  begin 
her  career.  It  was  the  only  course  for  her  to  take; 
but  he  looked  forward  to  the  lonely,  empty  days 
without  her  with  real  concern. 

He  had,  to  a  certain  extent,  grown  used  to  the 
detachment  and  colourlessness  of  his  life  since  Far- 
well  had  left  it;  but  here,  quite  unexpectedly,  a  young 
and  vital  personality  had  entered  in  and  had  given 
him,  in  a  crude,  friendly  way,  to  be  sure,  what  his 
absent  friend  had  given  —  the  assurance  that  his 
deformity  could  not  exclude  him  from  the  sweet 
humanity  that  was  keen  enough  to  recognize  the  soul 
of  him.  Sensitive,  shrinking  from  suffering  and  pub- 
licity, the  man  found  in  Priscilla's  companionship 
and  confiding  friendliness  the  deepest  joy  he  had 
known  since  his  great  loss.  He  wished  that  he  was 
ninety,  indeed,  and  that  his  infirmity  and  wealth 
might  secure  for  him  this  new  interest  that  had 
taken  him  out  of  himself  and  caused  his  sluggish 
senses  to  revive.  But  he  was  not  yet  fifty.  For  all 
his  handicaps  he  was  still  in  fair  health,  and  the 
best  that  he  could  hope  for  was  that  Priscilla,  among 
her  new  duties,  would  remember  him,  come  back  to 


222  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS? 

him,  make  his  lonely  home  a  retreat  and  comfort 
when  her  arduous  duties  permitted. 

Those  last  few  days  of  freedom  and  companionship 
were  beautiful  to  them  both.  With  pride  and  a  cer- 
tain complacency,  Boswell  saw  that  he  had  somewhat 
formed  and  developed  Priscilla's  tastes  and  judgment. 
She  was  no  longer  the  ignorant  girl  she  once  had 
been.  Music  did  not  now  move  her  to  tears  and  a 
kind  of  dumb  suffering.  She  began  to  understand, 
to  control  her  emotions,  and  gain,  through  them, 
pleasure  without  pain. 

"She  laughs,"  Boswell  thought,  "more  intelli- 
gently and  discriminately  when  she  sees  a  good 
farce." 

All  this  was  satisfying  to  them,  but  on  a  certain 
late-winter  day  it  came  to  an  end,  and  Priscilla, 
thrilling  with  a  sense  of  achievement,  entered  St. 
Albans  on  probation. 

What  the  weeks  of  doubt  and  preparation  meant, 
no  one,  not  even  Boswell,  ever  knew.  The  old  child- 
ish determination  to  suffer,  in  order  to  know,  held 
true  and  unfaltering.  The  tortured  nerves,  after  the 
first  shocks,  regained  their  poise  and  strength;  the 
heavy  work  and  strict  discipline  left  the  sturdy  body 
like  fine  steel,  although  weariness  often  tested  it 
sorely. 

"  'Tis  not  to  dance,  Priscilla  Glenn,"  she  often 
warned  herself;  "it  is  to  suffer  and  know!" 

Then  she  grimly  set  her  strong,  white  teeth.    With 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   223 

all  the  getting  and  relinquishing,  however,  she  never 
forgot  to  laugh,  and  her  courageous  cheerfulness  won 
for  her  more  than  she  realized  while  she  was  learning 
the  curves  of  her  Road. 

And  then  she  was  accepted.  No  one  but  herself 
had  ever  doubted  her  triumph,  but  when  she  first 
learned  the  verdict  she  was  wild  with  delight  and 
could  hardly  wait  for  her  "hours  off"  to  tell  Boswell 
all  about  it. 

She  was  "capped"  at  last.  No  hard-won  crown 
was  ever  appreciated  more  than  that  white  trifle 
which  rested  like  a  bit  of  snow  upon  the  "rusty  hair" 
of  Priscilla  Glenn. 

Before  the  little  mirror  in  her  own  bedchamber, 
on  that  first  victorious  day,  she  posed  and  confided 
to  her  appreciative  reflection. 

"So  this  is  Priscilla  Glenn  of  the  In-Place?"  she 
whispered.  "I  simply  can't  believe  it!  No  one 
else  would  believe  it  either;  and  you  are  not  the  same. 
You  never  will  be  again  what  you  once  were." 

The  flush  of  excitement  showed  plainer  now  than 
of  yore,  for  the  clear,  dark  skin  had  taken  on  the 
delicacy  of  the  city's  tint.  The  eyes  were  deep  and 
grave,  for  already  they  had  witnessed  the  mystery 
of  life  and  death.  They  had  smiled  down  at  pain- 
racked  motherhood;  had  held,  in  calm  courage,  many 
an  outgoing  soul.  Priscilla  had  a  closer  vision  than 
she  once  had  had  when  she  dreamed  her  dreams  of 
what  lay  beyond  the  Secret  Portage  and  the  Big  Bay. 


224  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

^  The  reflection  nodded  acknowledgment  to  all  that 
the  excited  brain  affirmed.  Then  suddenly: 

"Why,  Priscilla  Glenn,  you  are  crying!  And  for 
—  which?" 

The  quaint  expression  brought  a  smile. 

"You  are  homesick,  Priscilla  Glenn,  homesick 
for  what  you  have  never  had!  That's  the  matter 
with  you.  You  want  some  one  to  go  to  and  tell 
about  this,  but  in  all  the  world  there  isn't  any 
one  who  could  understand.  You  poor,  poor  dear! 
What  would  your  father  and  mother  think  of  you? 
There,  now,  never  mind.  You  are  only  a  —  blue 
and  white  nurse.  Even  Master  Farwell  and  Mr. 
Boswell  could  not  understand;  but  a  woman  could. 
Some  woman!  She  would  know  what  it  means  to  be 
free  at  last  and  have  something,  quite  your  own,  with 
which  to  hew  and  cut  your  own  road;  yes,  your  own 
road,  right  along  to  —  to  the  end,  just  as  old  Pine 
used  to  cut  the  new  trails.  It's  the  standing  up 
straight  at  last  on  your  own  roots  like  the  dear  little 
white  birch  in  the  Place  Beyond  the  Winds.  A 
woman  could  understand,  but  no  one  else." 

By  some  subtle  power  Priscilla  had  thought  and 
talked  her  fancy  far  and  away  from  the  plain  room 
of  St.  Albans.  Her  longing,  her  quaint  "  for  which  ? " 
the  memory  of  the  Indian  guide  and  the  little  white 
birch  had  performed  a  miracle.  Through  the  excite- 
ment and  elation  stole  the  fantastic  power  of  child- 
hood. She  was  on  her  Road,  bound  for  her  Heart's 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   225 

Desire!  No  doubt,  no  misgiving,  assailed  the  mo- 
ment of  joy.  Forward,  just  a  little  beyond,  success 
awaited  her.  The  possibility  of  defeat  was  over 
forever.  From  now  on,  through  weariness,  toil,  and 
perhaps  suffering,  she  was  going  to  her  own.  She 
had  never  realized  the  tense  mental  and  physical 
strain  through  which  she  had  passed;  she  did  not 
realize  it  now,  but  with  the  relaxation  came  an  al- 
most dangerous  exhilaration.  The  present,  only 
so  far  as  it  verified  the  past,  had  no  hold  upon  her; 
she  let  herself  go. 

Back  again  was  she  in  Kenmore.  It  was  spring- 
time, and  the  red  rocks  and  hemlocks  shone  and  the 
water  sparkled;  she  heard  it  lapping  against  the  tiny 
islands,  so  glad  was  it  to  be  free  of  the  winter's 
grasp.  Some  one  was  dancing  to  the  Spring's  Call 
—  a  small,  graceful  thing  with  a  bright  red  cape  flying 
on  the  wind,  the  soft  wind  of  the  In-Place.  There 
was  music,  too!  Oh!  how  clearly  it  came  rising  and 
falling;  and  then,  in  the  bare  hospital  room,  the  blue- 
clad  nurse  tripped  this  way  and  that,  while  memory 
held  true  to  note  and  step! 

Oh !  It  was  on  again,  on  again,  that  dear  old  dance. 
It  dried  the  tears  in  the  tender  eyes  and  held  the 
smile  on  the  joyous  lips.  Then,  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
begun,  the  dance  ceased,  a  flushed  face  confronted  the 
reflection  in  the  glass,  and  a  low  curtsey  followed, 
while  a  reverent  voice  repeated  as  if  in  prayer: 

"Skib,  skib,  skibble  —  de  —  de  —  dosh!" 


226  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

The  words  came  of  their  own  volition;  they  were 
part  and  kin  to  the  mood  that  held  and  swayed  her. 
They  were  a  pagan  plea  for  guidance  and  protection 
in  the  opening  life  where  wind  and  fury  would  beset 
her. 

Suddenly  words  of  everyday  life  found  their  way 
to  her  detached  consciousness  and  recalled  her  to  the 
present  with  almost  cruel  force. 

"It's  the  little  Canuck  he  wants!  Just  fancy!  I 
heard  him  say  so  to  —  to  Mrs.  Thomas.  Such  in- 
justice! But  there  the  old  Grenadier  comes  now. 
Hustle!" 

Priscilla  heard  the  scampering  feet,  then,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  the  dignified  advance  of  the  super- 
intendent. There  was  a  tap  on  the  door.  The  doors 
of  some  rooms,  owing  to  discipline,  were  never 
tapped  by  Mrs.  Thomas,  but  the  reason  that  com- 
pelled her  to  show  this  courtesy  to  Priscilla  also 
caused  her  to  wish  this  young  Canadian  was  a  less 
serious  person;  one  more  prone  to  frivol  in  her  "hours 
off,"  and  not  have,  for  her  most  intimate  companion, 
the  strange  dwarf.  She  could  have  forgiven  Priscilla 
Glenn  if,  having  overdone  her  "late  leave,"  she  had 
crawled  into  a  back  window  to  escape  punishment. 
It  would  have  made  her  more  understandable.  As 
it  was,  Mrs.  Thomas  tapped! 

"Come  in,  please,"  said  Priscilla,  and  the  large, 
handsome  superintendent  entered  and  sat  down. 

"I  thought  I  would  come  and  tell  you,"  she  said, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    227 

trying  to  keep  her  professional  expression  while  her 
maternal  heart  warmed  to  the  girl,  "that  you  have 
been  highly  honoured.  There  is  to  be  a  very  im- 
portant operation  to-morrow  at  three  o'clock.  Doc- 
tor Ledyard  is  to  perform  it,  assisted  by  his  young 
partner.  He  has  asked  for  several  nurses,  and  he 
named  you  —  singled  you  out.  He  has  observed  you; 
wishes  to  —  use  you.  It's  a  great  compliment,  Miss 
Glynn."  So  often  had  Priscilla  corrected,  to  no 
avail,  the  wrong  pronouncing  of  her  name,  that  she 
now  accepted  it  without  further  demur.  Flushing 
and  trembling,  she  went  close  to  Mrs.  Thomas  and 
held  her  hands  out  impulsively. 

"All  my  glory  is  coming  at  once!"  she  faltered. 

"Glory?  Well,  you  are  a  queer  girl.  To  stand 
for  hours  under  that  man's  eye!  You  call  it  glory? 
Why,  it  is  an  honour  because  it  is  that  man,  that  eye; 
but  as  to  glory!  My  dear  Miss  Glynn,  I  must  insist 
that  you  go  off  this  afternoon  and  play  —  some- 
where. Then  come  back  and  get  a  good  night's  rest. 
The  life  of  the  richest  man  in  New  York  will  hang 
in  the  balance  to-morrow,  and  not  even  the  glorified 
nurse  can  afford  to  have  a  trembling  hand  when  she 
passes  up  an  instrument  or  wipes  the  perspiration 
from  the  surgeon's  brow." 

"Thank  you,  oh!  thank  you,  Mrs.  Thomas!  Of 
course,  if  I  were  not  so  stupid  I  could  make  you  under- 
stand how  I  feel.  I  seem  to  have  found  the  right 
way,  and  everything  is  conspiring  to  tell  me  so.  You 


see,  I  might  not  have  qualified;  some  girls  do  not. 
No  one  might  have  noticed  me;  you  might  not  have 
been  so  kind.  Often  I  am  rather  lonely  and  ungrate- 
ful; but  you  must  try  to  believe  that  I  am  —  very 
happy  now." 

"I  suppose"  —  Mrs.  Thomas  was  holding  the 
radiant  young  face  with  her  clear,  calm  eyes  —  "I 
suppose  you  are  one  of  those  natures  that  craves 
success;  cannot  brook  defeat.  Life  will  deal  harshly 
with  you." 

"I  am  willing  to  suffer.  It  is  the  learning  I  must 
have.  It  is  the  chance  to  learn  that  makes  me  so 
glad,"  Priscilla  burst  in,  "and  it's  this  sure  feeling 
that  I  am  on  the  right  trail." 

"There  is  a  difference.  But  somehow  the  career 
of  a  nurse  is  so  —  well  —  difficult,  and  —  hard," 
Mrs.  Thomas  went  on.  "I  wonder  how  you  can 
approach  it  with  your  enthusiasm  undaunted  after 
months  of  service." 

"I  do  not  know,  but  it  seems  my  road  to  what  is 
mine.  It  gets  me  so  near  people  —  when  they  most 
need  me  —  are  so  glad  to  have  me!  There  seems  to 
be  nothing  between  me  —  and  them.  I  love  it,  oh !  I 
love  it,  Mrs.  Thomas!" 

"See  here,  Miss  Glynn,  where  are  you  going 
this  afternoon?" 

"I  do  not  know;  just  —  going." 

"I  wish  —  dear  me!  I  do  wish  you  could  go 
somewhere;  do  something  shockingly  frivolous." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   229 

"No,  I  couldn't  to-day.  I  feel  like  praying  —  or 
dancing.  There's  the  most  wonderful,  singing  feel- 
ing inside  of  me.  That's  why  I  do  not  need  — 
fun  as  much  as  most  of  the  girls  do.  You  are 
very  kind;  I  think  I  will  go  to  your  big,  fine  park  and 
walk  and  walk.  I'd  like  to  see  the  sun  set  and  the 
stars '! 

"Now,  Miss  Glynn,  unless  you  promise  me  to  get 
under  shelter  before  the  stars  come  out  I'll  call  the 
police.  Some  day  you  will  learn  that  New  York  is 
not  your  Canadian  hamlet." 

Priscilla  laughed  gayly. 

"Very  well.  I  will  take  my  walk  and  then  go  to 
my  dear  old  friend.  He'll  be  looking  for  me  from  his 
high  window.  He  always  stands  there  late  after- 
noons, on  the  chance  of  my  coming.  He  says  it's  a 
pleasure  to  feel  you  have  something  that  may  comer 
even  if  you  know  it  isn't  coming  just  then." 

Priscilla  changed  her  clothing  and  set  forth  a  half 
hour  later  for  her  walk  and  to  meet  with  an  adven- 
ture that  changed  the  current  of  her  thought  mate- 
rially. From  that  afternoon  she  was  pressed  and 
forced  up  her  Road  by  a  power  that  had  taken  her 
into  control  with  definite  purpose. 

She  went  into  the  park  at  the  lower  entrance  and 
walked  rapidly  to  a  high  place  that  was  a  favourite 
with  her.  So  peaceful  and  detached  it  was  that  she 
could  generally  think  her  thoughts,  sing  aloud  a 
little  song,  and  feel  safe  from  intrusion.  Being  high 


230  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

and  open,  the  sunlight  rested  longer  there  than  it 
did  below  and  misled  one  as  to  time. 

There  was  a  glorious  sunset  that  evening,  a  golden, 
deep  one,  against  which  the  bare  trees,  towers,  and 
house  roofs  stood  outlined  black  and  sharp.  It  was 
like  a  burnished  shield.  It  was  a  still  day,  with  a 
gentle  crispness  in  the  air  that  stimulated  while  it 
did  not  chill. 

"Everything  is  waiting.  What  for?  what  for?" 
Priscilla  whispered  sociably  to  herself.  She  was 
young,  full  of  health  and  success.  Of  course  she  was 
waiting  as  the  young  do.  And  then  something 
torched  her  cheek  softly,  and,  looking  down,  she 
saw  that  her  dark  suit  was  covered  with  feathery 
snowflakes.  So  silently  had  they  escaped  a  passing 
cloud  that  she  was  startled.  She  arose  at  once  and 
was  surprised  to  find,  in  the  hollow  below,  thatrthe 
paths  were  crusted  and  the  electric  lights  gleamed 
yellow  through  a  fluttering  mist  of  flying  snow.  It 
was  very  beautiful,  but  it  warned  one  to  hasten, 
and  besides  it  had  grown  quite  dark. 

There  was  a  path,  Priscilla  knew  it  well,  that  led 
straight  across  the  park  to  an  entrance  near  Boswell's 
home,  and  she  took  it  now  at  a  rapid  pace. 

The  beauty  of  the  walk  did  not  escape  her,  the 
exhilaration  of  the  air  acted  like  a  cordial  upon  her, 
she  seemed  hardly  to  touch  the  ground  as  she  ran  on; 
and  once  she  paused  before  setting  her  foot  upon  the 
lovely  whiteness.  As  she  hesitated  some  one  stepped 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    231 

from  the  shadow  of  a  clump  of  bushes  and  confronted 
her  under  the  electric  light. 

"Can  you  tell  me  how  to  find  the  nearest  way  out? 
I'm  lost." 

Priscilla's  heart  gave  one  hard  throb  and  stood 
still,  it  seemed  for  an  hour,  while  an  almost  forgotten 
terror  seized  and  held  her.  She  was  looking  full  upon 
Jerry- Jo  McAlpin!  A  soiled  and  haggard  shadow  he 
was  of  what  he  once  had  been,  but  it  was  Jerry- Jo 
and  no  other. 

"I  —  I  did  not  mean  to  frighten  you.  Forgive  me. 
I  ain't  going  to  hurt  you,  Miss.  I ' 

But  Priscilla  was  gone  before  the  sentence  was 
finished.  Gone  before  she  knew  whether  the  speaker 
had  recognized  her  or  not.  Gone  before  —  and 
then  she  stood  still.  She  could  not  leave  him  to 
wander  alone  at  night  in  that  big,  strange  place.  No 
matter  what  happened,  she  must  treat  him  humanly, 
she,  who  knew  the  danger.  She  went  back,  her  blood 
running  like  ice  through  her  body;  but  Jerry-Jo 
McAlpin  was  not  there.  Priscilla  waited,  and  once 
she  spoke  vague  directions  to  the  empty  space,  but 
no  answering  voice  replied.  Presently  she  con- 
trolled herself,  and  took  to  the  path  again,  and 
reached  John  Boswell's  house  before  he  had  left  his 
window. 

She  did  not  tell  of  the  encounter;  she  felt  she  must 
wait,  but  in  her  heart  she  knew  that  Jerry-Jo  Mc- 
Alpin was  as  surely  on  her  trail  as  she  was  herself. 


232   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Such  things  as  that  meeting  did  not  happen  to  them 
of  the  In-Place  unless  for  a  purpose. 

She  had  a  wonderful  evening  with  Boswell.  They 
did  not  go  out,  and  after  dinner  he  read  her  some 
manuscript  stories.  Boswell  had  never  before  so 
intimately  permitted  her  to  come  close  to  his  work. 
She  had  seen  stories  of  his  in  print,  had  heard  plans 
for  others,  but  before  the  fire  in  his  study  that  night 
he  read,  among  other  things,  "The  Butterfly  and  the 
Beetle."  So  beautifully,  so  touchingly,  had  he  pic- 
tured the  little  romance,  of  which  Priscilla  herself 
was  part,  that  the  tears  fell  from  the  girl's  eyes  while 
her  lips  were  smiling  at  the  tender  humour.  The 
undercurrent  of  meaning  threw  new  light  on  the 
lonely  life  of  the  rich,  but  wretched  man.  The  joy 
depicted  in  simple,  friendly  intercourse,  the  aspi- 
ration of  the  Beetle,  the  grateful  appreciation  for  the 
plain,  common  happenings  that  in  most  lives  were 
taken  for  granted,  but  which  in  his  rose  to  monu- 
mental importance,  endeared  him  to  her  anew.  It 
brought  back  to  her  what  Boswell  had  told  her 
of  his  relations  with  Farwell  Maxwell,  her  Anton 
Farwell.  She  could  now,  with  her  broader,  more 
mature  reason,  understand  the  devotion  the  cripple 
had  given  the  one  man  who,  in  the  empty  years, 
had  taken  him  without  reservation,  had  ignored 
his  limitations,  and  had  been  his  friend  and  com- 
rade. 

Suddenly  she  asked: 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   233 

"Have  you  heard  from  —  from  Master  Farwell 
lately?"  The  question  startled  Boswell. 

"Yes.  I  had  a  letter  yesterday.  He  has  been 
ill.  That  squaw  woman,  Long  Jean,  took  care  of 
him.  The  letter  sounded  restless.  There'll  be 
trouble  with  Farwell  before  we  get  through.  My 
letters  are  evidently  lacking  power,  and  your  silence 
baffles  him." 

"Poor  Master  Farwell!" 

"I  fancy  he  thought  Joan  Moss  would  go  to  him. 
It  has  been  hard  work  to  build  a  barrier  between  him 
and  her  that  could  satisfy,  now  that  he  believes  you 
have  told  her  of  his  being  among  the  living." 

"What  have  you  said  to  him  all  this  time?" 

Boswell  shifted  his  position,  and  Priscilla  saw  the 
haggard,  careworn  look  spread  over  his  face.  By 
sudden  insight  she  realized  that  he  looked  old,  pitiful, 
and  far  from  well,  and  her  heart  filled  with  sympathy. 
The  half-mystical  life  was  telling  upon  him,  becoming 
a  burden. 

"Oh,  at  first  I  said  the  surprise  of  knowing  he 
lived  had  made  her,  made  Joan  Moss,  ill.  It  took 
nearly  six  months  to  cover  that,  and  I  did  some  good 
writing  during  that  period.  Then  I  told  him  there 
were  things  to  settle;  then,  fear  for  his  safety  over- 
powered her:  dread  of  being  tracked.  And  since 
then  —  well,  since  then  there  has  been  silence.  Can 
you  not  understand?  His  pride  has  asserted  itself 
at  last.  If  she  will  not  communicate  with  him  her- 


234  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

self,  he  will  have  none  of  me;  none  of  you.  Has  he 
ever  said  a  word  about  her  to  —  you?" 

"Never,"  Priscilla  answered. 

"But,"  Boswell  went  on,  "I  notice  a  change  in  him; 
an  almost  feverish  impatience.  I  fear  he  doubts 
me  —  after  all  these  years!" 

"And  when  he  knows?" 

The  man  by  the  fire  shrank  deeper  in  his  chair. 

"When  he  knows?"  he  repeated.  "Why,  then 
he  will  have  an  opportunity  to  understand  my  life- 
long devotion,  my  gratitude,  my  love!  That  is  all." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FOR  real  emergencies,"  Doctor  Ledyard  once 
remarked  to  Helen  Travers,  "give  me  the 
nervous,  high-strung  women.  They  come 
through  shock  and  danger  better,  they  hold  to  a 
climax  more  steadily.  Your  phlegmatic  woman  goes 
to  pieces  because  she  hasn't  imagination  and  vision 
enough  to  carry  her  over  the  present." 

This  reasoning  caused  him  to  select  Priscilla 
Glenn  for  one  of  the  most  critical  operations  he  had 
ever  performed.  Among  the  blue  and  white  nurses 
of  his  knowledge  this  girl  with  the  strange,  uplifted 
expression  efface;  this  girl  who  was  actually  on  the 
lookout  for  experience  and  practice,  and  who  seri- 
ously loved  her  profession,  stood  in  a  class  by  her- 
self. He  had  long  had  his  eye  upon  her,  had 
meant  to  single  her  out.  And  now  the  opportunity 
had  come. 

Perhaps  the  most  important  man  in  business  cir- 
cles, certainly  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  city,  had 
come  to  that  period  of  his  life's  career  when  he  must 
pay  toll  for  the  things  he  had  done  and  left  undone 
in  his  past.  The  broad,  common  gateway  gaped  wide 
for  him,  and  only  one  chance  presented  itself  as  a 

235 


236   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

possible  means  of  holding  him  back  from  the  long 
journey  he  so  shudderingly  contemplated. 

"One  chance  in  ten?"  he  questioned. 

"One  —  in "  Ledyard  had  hesitated. 

"A  hundred?" 

"A  thousand." 

A  breathless  pause  followed.    Then: 

"And  if  I  do  not  take  it,  how  long?" 

"A  week,  a  month;  not  longer." 

"I'll  take  it." 

"I'll  have  my  partner Would  you  care  for 

any  one  else?"  Ledyard  asked. 

"No.  Since  it  must  be,  I  put  myself  in  your 
hands.  I  trust  you  above  any  one  I  know.  Do 
your  best  for  me,  and  in  case  I  slip  through  your 
fingers  I  thank  you  now,  and  —  good-bye." 

Before  any  great  event,  or  operation,  Ledyard 
was  supersensitive,  highly  wrought,  and  nervous. 
When  he  heard  the  announcement  that  day  of  the 
operation:  "All  is  ready,  sir!"  he  stepped,  gowned 
and  masked,  into  the  operating-room,  and  was  aware 
of  a  senseless  inclination  to  ask  some  one  —  he  did 
not  know  whom  —  to  make  less  noise  and  to  lower 
the  shades.  Then  his  eye  fell,  not  on  the  dignified 
and  serene  head  nurse,  not  on  the  other  ghostly 
young  forms  in  their  places  near  the  table,  not  on 
the  anesthetist,  nor  young  Travers,  his  partner,  but 
on  the  nurse  who 'stood  a  little  apart,  the  girl  he 
had  selected  in  order  to  test  her  on  a  really  great 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   237 

case.  So  radiant  and  inspired  was  Priscilla  Glenn's 
face  that  it  fairly  shone  in  that  grim  place  and  posi- 
tively had  the  effect  of  bringing  Ledyard  to  the 
calmness  that  characterized  his  action  once  the 
necessity  demanded. 

"How  is  your  patient,  Doctor  Sloan?"  he  asked 
the  anesthetist. 

"Fine,  Doctor  Ledyard.  I'm  ready  when  you 
are." 

Then  tense  silence  followed,  broken  only  by  the 
click  of  instruments  and  the  curt,  crisp  commands. 
The  minutes,  weighted  with  concentration,  ran  into 
the  hour.  Not  a  body  in  that  room  was  aware  of 
fatigue  or  anxiety.  A  life  was  at  stake,  and  every 
one  knew  it.  It  did  not  matter  that  the  man  upon 
the  table  was  important  and  useful:  had  he  been  the 
meanest  of  the  mean  and  in  the  same  critical  state, 
that  steady  hand,  which  guided  the  knife  so  scien- 
tifically and  powerfully,  would  have  worked  the  same. 

The  sun  beat  down  upon  the  glass  roof  of  that  high 
room;  the  perspiration  started  to  Ledyard's  forehead 
and  a  nurse  wiped  it  away. 

From  her  place  Priscilla  Glenn  watched  breath- 
lessly the  scene  before  her.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  never  seen  an  operation  before;  had  never 
comprehended  what  one  could  be.  She  realized 
the  odds  against  which  those  two  great  men  were 
battling,  and  her  gaze  rested  finally,  not  on  the  head 
surgeon,  but  on  his  partner.  Once,  as  if  by  some 


238   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

subtle  attraction,  he  raised  his  eyes  and  met  hers. 
Above  the  mask  his  glance  showed  kindly  and  en- 
couragingly. He  knew  that  some  nurses  lost  their 
nerve  when  a  thing  stretched  on  as  this  did;  he 
never  could  quite  overlook  the  fact  that  nurses  were 
women,  as  well,  and  he  hated  to  see  one  go  under. 
But  this  young  nurse  was  showing  no  weakness. 
Travers  saw  that,  after  a  moment,  and  dropped  his 
eyes.  But  that  glance  had  fixed  Priscilla's  face  in 
his  memory,  and  when,  after  the  great  man  had  been 
carried  to  his  room  with  hope  following  him,  when 
he  could  be  left  with  safety  to  his  private  nurse, 
Travers  came  upon  the  girl  standing  by  a  deep  win- 
dow in  the  upper  hall.  He  remembered  her  at  once 
and  stopped  to  say  a  pleasant  word. 

This  was  not  the  strictly  proper  thing  to  do,  and 
Travers  knew  it.  Ledyard  was  always  challenging 
his  undignified  tendencies. 

"Unless  doctors  and  nurses  can  leave  their  sex 
outside  their  profession, "  was  a  pet  epigram  of  Led- 
yard's,  "they  had  better  choose  another." 

But  Travers  had  never  been  able  to  fulfil  his  part- 
ner's ideal. 

"It  was  a  wonderful  operation,"  he  said.  "I 
hope  it  did  not  overtire  you.  You  will  get  hardened 
after  a  while." 

"I  am  not  at  all  tired.  Yes,  it  was  —  wonderful! 
I  did  not  know  any  operation  could  be  like  that  —  I 
mean  in  the  way  that  it  was  done.  I  have  always 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   239 

been  afraid  of  Doctor  Ledyard  before;  all  of  us  are; 
I  shall  never  be  again." 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

Travers,  being  young  and  vital,  was  forgetting,  for 
the  moment,  his  professional  air  to  a  dangerous 
extent.  He  was  noticing  the  strange  coloured  hair 
under  the  snowy  cap,  the  poise  of  the  head,  the  deep 
violet  eyes  in  the  richly  tinted  face. 

"It  was  that  —  well,  the  look  on  his  face  after  he 
had  done  all  that  he  could  —  done  it  so  wonderfully. 
That  look  was  —  a  prayer!  I  shall  never  forget." 

Travers  gave  a  light  laugh. 

"It  would  be  like  Doctor  Ledyard,"  he  said  with  a 
peculiarly  boyish  ring  in  his  voice,  "to  do  his  part 
first  and  pray  afterward." 

"  But  no  one  could  ever  be  afraid  of  him  again  hav- 
ing once  seen  that  look!" 

"Miss  Glynn,"  Travers  replied;  "they  could!  and 
yet  the  look  holds  the  fear  in  check." 

Priscilla  went  early  to  bed  that  night.  She  had 
planned  a  visit  to  Boswell  when  her  enthusiasm  was 
at  its  height,  but  at  the  day's  end  she  found  herself 
so  exhausted  that  she  sought  her  room  in  a  state 
bordering  on  collapse. 

Sounds  outside  caught  and  held  her  attention; 
every  sense  was  quiveringly  alert  and  receptive;  she 
was  at  the  mercy  of  her  subconscious  self. 

"Extry!  extry!"  bellowed  a  boy  just  below  her 
window;  "turribul  accident  on  —  de  —  extry!  ex- 


24o  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

try!     Latest  bulletin  —  Gordan  Moffatt  —  big  fin  — 
cier  —  extry !  extry!" 

Priscilla  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened.  So  intimate 
had  the  insistent  boy  in  the  street  become  that 
she  was  drawn  to  him  by  a  common  bond  of  sym- 
pathy. 

Slowly  a  luxurious  sense  of  weariness  overcame  her 
and  again  she  leaned  back  on  her  pillow  and  sank 
into  a  semiconscious  sleep.  Balanced  between  life  and 
the  oblivion,  into  which  reason  enters  blindfolded, 
she  made  no  resistance,  but  was  swayed  by  every 
passing  wave  of  thought,  memory,  and  vision. 

The  voice  outside  merged  presently  into  Jerry-Jo 
McAlpin's.  So  naturally  did  it  do  so  that  the  girl 
upon  the  bed,  rigid  and  pale,  accepted  the  change 
with  no  surprise. 

Jerry-Jo  was  asking  her  the  way  out!  He  was 
lost  —  lost.  He  wanted  to  get  out  of  the  darkness 
and  the  noise;  he  wanted  to  find  his  way  back  to  the 
In-Place. 

Yes,  she  would  show  him!  There  was  no  fear  of 
him;  no  repulsion.  She  was  very  safe  and  strong, 
and  she  knew  that  it  was  wiser  for  Jerry- Jo  to  go 
back  home. 

Then  suddenly  she  and  he  were  transported  from 
the  bewildering  city,  talking  in  its  sleep,  to  the 
sweet,  fresh  dimness  of  the  Kenmore  Green,  where  the 
steamer  had  left  them.  It  was  early,  very  early 
morning,  not  more  than  four  o'clock,  and  the  stars 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   241 

were  bright  and  the  hemlocks  black,  and  the  red 
rocks  looked  soft  in  the  shadows,  like  pillows.  And 
over  the  Green,  loping  and  inquisitive,  came  Sandy 
McAdam's  dog,  Bounder.  How  natural  and  restful 
the  scene  was!  Then  it  was  Jerry-Jo,  not  Priscilla, 
who  was  leading.  The  half-breed  with  a  gesture  of 
friendliness  was  beckoning  her  on  toward  the  mossy 
wood  path  leading  to  Lonely  Farm.  There  was  a 
definiteness  about  the  slouching  figure  that  forbade 
any  pause  at  the  White  Fish  Lodge  or  the  master's 
dark  and  silent  house.  Priscilla  longed  to  stop,  but 
she  hastened  on,  feeling  a  need  for  hurry. 

Presently  she  saw  the  little  house,  her  father's 
house,  and  there  was  a  light  shining  from  the  kitchen 
window.  Jerry-Jo,  still  preceding  her,  tapped  on  the 
outer  door,  but  when  the  door  fell  open  Jerry-Jo 
was  gone!  Alone,  Priscilla  confronted  her  father, 
and  saw  with  surprise  that  he  evidently  expected 
her.  While  the  look  of  hatred  and  doubt  still  rested 
in  his  eyes,  there  was  also  a  look  of  dumb  pity.  No 
word  was  spoken.  Nathaniel  merely  stepped  aside 
and  closed  the  door  behind  her.  Then  she  began  a 
strange,  breathless  hunt  for  something  which,  at 
first,  she  could  not  call  by  name;  it  evaded  and  eluded 
her.  Something  was  missing;  something  she  wanted 
desperately;  but  the  rooms  were  horribly  dark  and 
lonely,  and  the  stillness  hurt  her  more  and  more. 

At  last  she  came  back  to  her  father  and  the  warm, 
lighted  kitchen. 


242   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"I  cannot  find  —  my  mother,"  she  said,  and  the 
reality  set  her  trembling. 

"Your  —  mother?  I  —  I  cannot  find  her,  either. 
I  thought  she  —  followed  you!" 

Cold  and  shivering,  Priscilla  sat  up  in  bed.  Her 
teeth  chattered  and  there  were  tears  on  her  cheeks. 
They  did  not  seem  like  her  own  tears.  It  was  as  if 
some  one,  bending  over  her,  had  let  them  fall  from 
eyes  seeking  to  find  her  in  the  dark. 

"Mother!"  moaned  Priscilla,  and  with  the  word 
a  yearning  and  craving  for  her  mother  filled  every 
sense.  By  a  magic  that  the  divine  only  controls, 
poor  Theodora  Glenn  in  that  moment  was  trans- 
formed and  radiantly  crowned  with  the  motherhood 
she  had  so  impotently  striven  to  achieve  in  her  nar- 
rowed, blighted  life.  The  suffering  of  maternity,  its 
denials  and  relinquishings  she  had  experienced,  but 
never  its  joy  of  realization,  unless,  as  her  spirit 
passed  from  the  Place  Beyond  the  Winds  to  its 
Home,  it  paused  beside  the  little,  narrow,  white 
bed  upon  which  Priscilla  lay,  and  caught  that  name 
"Mother!"  spoken  with  a  sudden  inspiration  of 
understanding. 

And  that  night,  with  only  her  grim  husband  and 
Long  Jean  beside  her,  Theodora  escaped  the  bondage 
of  life. 

After  the  strange  dream,  Priscilla,  awed  and  trem- 
bling, walked  to  the  wide  open  window  of  her  room. 
For  some  moments  she  stood  there  breathing  fast 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   243 

and  hard  while  the  cruel  clutch  of  superstition  hurt 
and  held  her. 

"Something  has  happened,"  she  faltered,  leaning 
upon  the  casement  and  looking  down  into  the  silent 
street,  for  the  restless  city  had  at  last  fallen  to  sleep. 
"Something  in  Kenmore!" 

A  red,  pulsing  planet,  shining  high  over  a  nearby 
church  tower,  caught  her  eye  and  brought  a  throb 
of  comfort  to  her  —  a  tender  thought  of  home. 

"To-morrow,  perhaps,  a  letter  will  come  from 
Master  Farwell;  if  not,  I  will  write  to  him.  I  must 
know." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

FOR  two  or  three  days  things  fell  into  such 
commonplace  routine  that  the  excitement  of 
the  big  operation  and  the  disturbing  dream 
of  the  night  lost  their  sharp,  clear  lines;  became 
blurred  and  part  of  the  web  and  woof  of  the  hospital 
regime.  There  was  little  time  for  introspection  or 
romancing  and  even  the  chance  meeting  with  Jerry- 
Jo  was  relegated  to  the  non-essentials.  Of  course 
he  was  in  the  city,  but  so  were  the  Hornby  boys  and 
others  from  the  In-Place.  The  whirlpool  was  a 
big  and  rushing  thing,  and  if  they  who  had  once  been 
neighbours  caught  a  glimpse  of  each  other  from  dizzy 
eddies,  what  did  it  matter?  The  possibility  of  sec- 
ond meetings  was  rare. 

John  Boswell  had  been  sympathetic,  to  a  certain 
degree,  with  Priscilla  concerning  the  operation  and 
her  very  evident  pride  in  the  part  she  had  been  per- 
mitted to  take  in  it.  With  the  instinctive  horror 
that  many  have  concerning  sickness  and  suffering, 
he  always  made  an  effort  to  appear  sympathetic 
when  Priscilla  grew  graphic.  Often  this  caused  her 
to  laugh,  but  she  never  doubted  Boswell's  sincere  in- 
terest in  her,  personally.  That  she  had  overcome 

244 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   245 

and  achieved  was  a  thing  of  real  gratification  to  the 
lonely  man;  that  she  came  to  him  naturally  and 
eagerly,  during  her  hours  of  freedom,  was  the  only 
unalloyed  joy  of  his  present  existence.  Even  Toky 
hailed  her  appearances  now  with  frank  pleasure,  for 
she,  and  she  alone,  brought  the  rare,  sweet  smile  to 
the  master's  face  and  gave  a  meaning  to  the  artistic 
meals  that  were  planned. 

"I  think,  my  Butterfly,"  Boswell  often  said  to 
her,  "that  you  have  soared  to  glory  through  suffering 
and  gore!  But  it  is  the  soaring  and  the  glory  that 
matter,  after  all.  Do  not  lay  it  up  against  your 
poor  Beetle  if  he  makes  a  wry  face  now  and  then. 
You  are  desperately  dramatic,  you  know,  but  even 
in  my  shudders  I  do  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that 
you  are  a  very  triumphant  Butterfly." 

Priscilla  beamed  upon  him;  the  new  light  of  well- 
poised  serenity  did  not  escape  him. 

"If  I  could  only  explain!"  she  once  said  to  him  as 
they  sat  facing  each  other  across  the  table  that  Toky 
had  laid  so  artistically.  "When  I  feel  the  deepest 
my  words  seem  shut  in  a  cage;  only  a  few  get  through 
the  bars.  I  really  believe  people  all  feel  the  same 
about  their  little  victories.  It  isn't  the  kind  of 
victory;  it  is  the  sure  realization  that  you  are  doing 
your  work  —  the  work  you  can  do  best.  Why, 
sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  were  the  big  All  Mother,  and 
the  sad,  helpless,  suffering  folk  were  my  dear  children 
just  looking  to  me  —  to  me!  And  then  I  try  to 


246  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

take  the  pain  and  fear  from  their  faces  by  all  the 
arts  my  profession  has  taught  me  and  all  the  —  the 
something  that  is  in  me,  and  —  I  tell  you " 

Priscilla  paused,  while  the  shining  light  in  her  big 
eyes  was  brightened,  rather  than  lessened,  by  the 
tears  that  gathered,  then  retreated. 

"And  for  all  this,"  Boswell  broke  in,  "you  are  to 
get  twenty-five  per,  or  for  a  particular  case,  thirty- 
five  per?" 

They  smiled  broadly  at  each  other,  for  their  one 
huge,  compelling  joke  loomed  close. 

"Well,  sir,  when  one  considers  what  two  intelligent 
people,  like  you  and  me,  did  with  Master  Farwell's 
one  hundred  dollars,  the  future  looks  wonderfully  rich! 
I  shall  soon  be  able  to  repay  the  loan  with  interest." 

And  then  they  talked  a  bit  of  Master  Farwell  and 
the  In-Place,  always  skirting  the  depths  gracefully, 
for  Boswell  never  permitted  certain  subjects  to  es- 
cape his  control.  It  was  the  half-playful,  but 
wholly  kind  dignity  that  had  won  for  him  Priscilla's 
faith  and  dependence. 

For  a  week  or  two  after  Gordon  Moffatt's  opera- 
tion things  went  calmly  and  prosaically  at  the 
hospital.  The  rich  man  recovered  so  rapidly  and 
satisfactorily  that  even  the  outside  world  took  things 
for  granted,  and  any  items  of  news  concerning  him 
were  to  be  found  on  the  inside  pages  of  the  news- 
papers. During  his  convalescence  Priscilla  met  Doc- 
tor Ledyard  and  Doctor  Travers  many  times.  Once, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   247 

by  some  mysterious  arrangement,  she  was  assigned 
charge,  in  the  rich  man's  room,  while  his  own 
nurse  was  absent.  For  three  days  and  nights  she 
obeyed  his  impatient  commands  and  reasoned  with 
him  when  he  confused  his  dependent  condition  with 
his  usual  domineering  position. 

"Damn  me!"  he  once  complained  to  Travers 
when  he  thought  Priscilla  was  out  of  hearing;  "that 
young  woman  you've  given  charge  over  me  ought  to 
have  a  bigger  field  for  her  accomplishments.  She's 
a  natural-born  tyrant.  I  tried  to  escape  her  this 
morning;  had  got  as  far  as  one  foot  out  of  bed  when 
she  bore  down  upon  me,  calmly,  devilishly  calmly, 
pointed  to  my  offending  foot,  and  said:  "Back, 
sir!"  Then  we  argued  a  bit  —  I'm  afraid  I  was  a 
trifle  testy  —  and  finally  she  laid  hands  upon  my 
ankle  in  the  most  scientific  manner  and  had  me  on 
my  back  before  I  could  think  of  the  proper  adjectives 
to  apply  to  her  impudence." 

Travers  laughed  and  looked  beyond  the  sick  man's 
bed  to  the  bowed  head  of  Priscilla  as  she  bent  over 
some  preparation  she  was  compounding  in  an  ante- 
room. From  a  high  window  the  sunlight  was  stream- 
ing down  on  the  wonderful  rusty-coloured  hair.  The 
cirl's  attitude  of  detachment  and  concentration  held 
the  physician's  approving  glance,  but  the  wave  of 
hair  under  the  white  cap  and  against  the  smooth, 
clear  skin  lingered  in  the  memory  of  the  man  long 
•after  he  forgot  MofFatt's  amusing  anecdote. 


248   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

And  then,  because  things  were  closing  in  upon 
Priscilla  Glenn's  little  stage,  something  happened  so 
commonplace  in  its  character  that  its  effect  upon  the 
girl  was  out  of  all  proportion. 

After  a  rather  strenuous  day  she  was  sleeping  heav- 
ily in  her  little  white  room  when  a  sharp  knock  on  her 
door  brought  her  well-trained  senses  into  action  at 
once. 

"There's  been  an  accident,  Miss  Glynn."  It  was 
the  superintendent  who  spoke.  "Please  report  on 
Ward  Five  as  soon  as  possible." 

It  was  an  insignificant  accident;  such  a  one  as 
occurs  shockingly  often  in  our  big  cities.  A  large 
touring  car,  with  seven  passengers,  rushing  up  a 
broad  avenue  with  a  conscientious  man  at  the  wheel, 
had  overhauled  a  poor  derelict  with  apparently  no 
fixed  purpose  in  his  befuddled  brain.  In  order  to 
spare  the  fellow,  the  chauffeur  had  wheeled  his  car 
madly  to  one  side,  and,  by  so  doing,  had  hit  an 
electric-light  pole,  with  the  result  that  every  one 
was  more  or  less  injured,  the  forlorn  creature  who 
had  caused  the  excitement,  most  of  all,  for  the  over- 
turned machine  had  included  him  in  its  crushing 
destruction. 

Four  men  and  three  women  were  carried  to  St. 
Albans  and  now  occupied  private  rooms,  while  the 
torn  and  broken  body  of  the  unknown  stranger  lay 
in  Ward  Five,  quite  unconscious.  He  was  breathing 
faintly,  and,  since  they  had  made  him  clean  and  de- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   249 

cent,  he  looked  very  young  and  wan  as  he  rested  upon 
the  narrow,  white  bed. 

Priscilla  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  cot  and  read  the 
chart  which  a  former  nurse  had  hurriedly  made  out; 
then  she  came  around  to  the  side  and  looked  down 
upon  —  Jerry-Jo  McAlpin! 

She  knew  him  at  once.  The  deathlike  repose  had 
wiped  away  much  that  recent  years  had  engraven 
on  his  face.  He  looked  as  Priscilla  remembered  him, 
standing  in  his  father's  boat,  proudly  playing  the 
man. 

For  a  moment  the  quiet  girl  grew  rigid  with  super- 
stitious fear.  That  deathlike  creature  before  her 
filled  her  with  unreasoning  alarm.  She  almost  ex- 
pected him  to  open  his  black  eyes  and  laughingly 
announce  that  he  had  found  her  at  last!  She  longed 
to  flee  from  the  room  before  he  had  a  chance  to  gain 
control  of  her.  She  breathed  fast  and  hard,  as  she 
had  that  morning  when  his  ringing  jeer  had  stayed 
her  feet  as  she  ran  from  the  Far  Hill  Place  after  the 
night  of  terror.  Then  sanity  came  to  her  relief 
and  she  knew,  with  a  pitying  certainty  born  of  her 
training,  that  Jerry-Jo  McAlpin  could  never  harm 
her  again.  That  he  was  a  link  between  the  past  and 
the  future  she  realized  with  strange  sureness.  He 
had  always  been  that.  He  had  made  things  happen; 
been  the  factor  in  bringing  experiences  to  her.  She, 
in  self-preservation,  would  not  claim  any  knowledge 
of  him  now;  she  would  care  for  him  and  wait  —  wait 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

until  she  understood  just  what  part  he  was  to  play 
in  her  present  experience.  He  might  threaten  all  that 
she  had  gained  for  herself — her  peace  and  security. 
Her  only  safeguard  now  was  to  ignore  the  personality 
before  her  and  respond  to  the  appeal  of  the  "case." 

Jerry- Jo  was  destined  to  become  interesting  before 
he  slipped  away.  Known  only  as  a  number,  since  he 
had  not  been  identified  or  claimed,  he  rapidly  rose  to 
importance.  After  three  days  of  unconsciousness 
he  still  persisted,  and  while  his  soul  wandered  on  the 
horizon,  his  body  responded  to  the  care  given  it  and 
grew  in  strength.  One  doctor  after  another  watched 
and  commented  on  his  chances,  and  in  due  time 
Doctor  Travers,  hearing  of  the  case,  stopped  to  ex- 
amine it,  and,  in  the  interest  of  science,  suggested  an 
operation  that  might  possibly  return  the  poor  fellow 
to  a  world  that  had  evidently  no  place  for  him. 

"It's  worth  trying,"  Travers  said  as  he  and  Pris- 
cilla  stood  beside  the  bed.  "We  haven't  found  out 
anything  concerning  him,  have  we?" 

Priscilla  shook  her  head. 

"Suppose  he  —  well,  suppose  he  had  any  claim 
upon  you,  would  you  take  the  chance  of  the  opera- 
tion for  him?" 

The  deep,  friendly  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  girl. 
She  coloured  sharply,  then  went  quite  pale.  There 
was  a  most  unaccountable  struggle,  and  Travers 
smiled  as  he  thought  how  conscientious  she  was  to 
feel  any  deep  responsibility  in  a  question  he  had 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   251 

asked,  more  in  idle  desire  to  make  talk  than  for  any 
other  reason. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  suddenly,  as  her  head  was 
lifted;  "yes,  I'd  give  him  every  chance." 

Just  then,  in  one  of  those  marvellous  flashes  of 
regained  consciousness,  the  man  upon  the  bed  opened 
his  eyes  and  looked,  first  at  Travers,  then  at  Pris- 
cilla.  Again  his  gaze  shifted,  gaining  strength  and 
meaning.  From  the  far  place  where  he  had  fared 
for  days  his  mind,  lighted  by  reason,  was  abnormally 
clear  and  almost  painfully  reinforced  by  memory. 
Then  he  laughed  —  laughed  a  long,  shuddering  laugh 
that  drew  the  thin  lips  back  from  the  white,  fang- 
like  teeth.  Before  the  sound  was  finished  the  light 
faded  from  the  black  eyes  and  the  grim  silence  shut 
in  close  upon  the  last  quivering  note. 

"We'll  take  the  chance,"  said  Travers.  And  late 
that  very  afternoon  they  took  it. 

A  week  later  Priscilla  sat  beside  the  man's  bed, 
her  right  hand  upon  his  pulse,  her  watch  in  her  left. 
So  intent  was  she  upon  the  weak  movement  under 
her  slim  fingers  that  she  had  forgotten  all  else  until 
a  voice  from  a  far,  far  distance  seemingly,  whispered 
hoarsely: 

"So  —  so  this  is  —  you?  I'm  not  dreaming?  I 
wasn't  dreaming  before  when  —  when  he  and  you 
came?" 

They  had  all  been  expecting  this.  The  operation 
had  been  very  successful,  though  it  was  not  to 


252  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

give  the  patient  back  to  life.  They  all  knew  that, 
too. 

"Yes,  Jerry-Jo,  it's  I." 

There  was  no  tremor  in  the  low  voice,  only  a 
determination  to  keep  the  world  from  knowing. 
Jerry-Jo  was  past  hurting  any  one. 

"The  —  lure  got  you,  too?" 

"Yes,  the  lure  got  me." 

"I  knew  you  that  night  in  the  dark  —  that  night 
in  the  park  —  you  ran  from  me.  I  was  lost  and  — 
and  starving!" 

"I  came  back,  Jerry-Jo.     I  did  indeed." 

"Have  I  been  here  —  long?" 

"Not  very.  Do  not  talk  any  more.  You  must 
rest.  There  is  to-morrow,  you  know." 

The  poor  fellow  was  too  weak  to  laugh,  but  the 
long  teeth  showed  for  a  moment. 

"I  must  talk.  Listen!  Do  they  know  here  — 
about  me  ?  know  my  name  ? " 

"No." 

"Don't  tell  them.  Don't  tell  any  one.  I  have 
done  something  for  you!  They  think,  back  there 
in  Kenmore,  that  you  are  with  me.  I've  written 
that  —  and  schoolmaster  hasn't  let  on.  I  haven't 
gone  to  the  Hornbys  here,  because  I  stood  by  you. 
No  one  must  know.  See  ? " 

"Yes,  Jerry- Jo,  I  see.  Please  lie  still  now.  It 
shall  be  as  you  wish.  You  have  been  —  very  good 
—  for  my  sake!" 


"  In  one  of  those  marvellous  flashes  of  regained  consciousness, 

the  man  upon  the  bed  opened  his  eyes  and  looked, 

first  at  Travers,  then  at  Priscilla  " 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    253 

"I've  starved  and  slept  in  dark  holes  —  for  you, 
and  now  you  and  him  —  have  got  to  take  care  of  me 
—  or  —  I'll  tell!  I'll  tell,  as  sure  as  God  hears  me!  " 

"We  will  take  care  of  you,  Jerry- Jo.  There! 
there!  I  promise;  and  you  know  we  of  the  In-Place 
stand  by  each  other." 

He  was  comforted  at  last,  and  fell  into  the  deep 
sleep  of  exhaustion.  Occasionally,  in  the  days  fol- 
lowing, he  opened  his  tired  eyes  and  gave  evidence  of 
consciousness.  He  was  drifting  out  calmly  and  pain- 
lessly, and  all  the  coarseness  and  degeneracy  of  the 
half-breed  seemed  dropping  by  the  way.  Some- 
times his  glance  rested  on  Doctor  Travers's  face,  for 
the  young  physician  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
case  and  was  touched  by  the  lonely,  unclaimed  fel- 
low who  had  served  science,  but  could  derive  no 
benefit  in  return.  Often  Jerry-Jo's  dark  eyes  fell 
upon  the  pitying  face  of  Priscilla  Glenn  with  ever- 
growing understanding  and  kindliness.  Sometimes 
in  the  long  nights  he  clung  to  her  like  a  child,  for 
she  was  very  good  to  him;  very,  very  devoted. 

One  night,  when  all  the  world  seemed  sleeping,  he 
whispered  to  her: 

"You  —  you  don't  know,  really?" 

Priscilla  thought  he  was  wandering,  and  said 
gently: 

"No,  Jerry-Jo,  really  I  do  not  know." 

"What  will  you  give  me  —  if  I  tell  you  the  biggest 
secret  in  the  world?" 


254   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

She  had  his  head  in  the  hollow  of  her  arm;  he  was 
resting  more  calmly  so.  He  had  been  feverish  all 
day. 

"What  —  can  I  give  you,  Jerry- Jo?" 

The  old,  pleading  look  was  in  the  dark  eyes,  but 
low  passion  had  vanished  forever. 

"Could  you  —  would  you  give  me  a  kiss  for  the 
secret  ? " 

"Yes,  Jerry- Jo, "  and  the  kiss  fell  upon  the  white 
brow. 

Could  John  Boswell  have  been  there  then  he  would 
have  understood. 

"You  —  you  are  crying!  I  feel  a  tear  with  the 
kiss!" 

The  quivering,  broken  smile  smote  Priscilla  to  the 
heart.  The  ward  was  deathly  quiet;  only  the  deep 
breathing  of  men  closer  to  life  than  Jerry-Jo  Mc- 
Alpin  broke  the  stillness. 

"Why  — do  you  cry?" 

"You  know,  it's  a  bad  habit  of  mine,  Jerry- Jo." 

"Yes.  You  —  you  cried  on  his  book,  you  re- 
member?" 

"I  remember." 

"Do  —  you  know  where  he  is  —  now?" 

"No.     Do  you?" 

The  head  upon  the  strong,  young  arm  moved  rest- 
lessly. 

"Yes  —  I  know  —  and  I'm  —  going  to  tell  you! 
It's  the  biggest  joke  I  ever  knew.  Just  to  think  — 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   255 

that  you  don't  know,  and  he  doesn't  know,  and  — 
and  I  do!" 

A  rattling,  husky  laugh  shook  the  thin  form  dan- 
gerously. Every  instinct  of  the  nurse  rose  in  alarm 
and  defence. 

"You  must  not  talk  any  more,  Jerry- Jo.  Lie 
still.  Come,  let  us  think  of  the  In-Place." 

Priscilla  slipped  her  arm  from  under  the  dark  head, 
and  took  the  wandering  hands  in  hers.  Her  random 
words  had  power  to  hold  and  chain  the  weak  mind. 

"I'm  'going  to  tell  you  —  where  he  is  —  but  we'll 
go  back  to  the  In-Place.  I  want  to  tell  you  there, 
and  —  he'll  come  and  find  you.  I'd  like  to  do  you 
both  a  good  turn  —  for  what  you've  done  for  me." 

Then,  after  a  pause  and  a  gasping  breath: 

"It's  growing  dark,  but  there's  Dreamer's  Rock 
and  Bleak  Head!" 

"And,  Jerry-Jo,"  whispered  Priscilla,  "there's 
Lone  Tree  Island,  don't  you  see?  Your  boat  is 
coming  around  into  the  Channel.  Please  tell  me  — 
where  he  is,  Jerry- Jo " 

Priscilla  realized  he  was  going  fast,  and  the  secret 
suddenly  gripped  her  with  strange  power.  She  must 
have  it;  she  must  know! 

"Please,  Jerry- Jo,  tell  me  where  he  is.  I  have 
wanted  so  to  know!  Listen!  Can  you  not  hear  — 
the  dear  old  sounds,  the  pattering  of  the  soft  little 
waves  that  the  ice  has  let  go  free?  There's  the 
farm,  the  woods "  But  Jerry- Jo  was  strug- 


256  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

gling  to  rise;  his  black  eyes  wide  and  straining,  his 
thin  arms  outstretched. 

"No!"  he  moaned  hoarsely,  and  already  he  seemed 
far  away.  "I  can't  make  the  Channel.  I'm  headed 
for  the  Secret  Portage  and  the  Big  Bay." 

"Jerry- Jo!  oh!  tell  me,  where  is  he?  Where  is 
he?" 

But  Priscilla  knew  it  was  too  late.  She  bent  and 
listened  at  the  still  breast  that  was  holding  the  secret 
close  from  her.  Then,  with  a  sense  of  having  been 
baffled,  defeated,  and  cruelly  cheated,  she  dropped 
her  wet  face  in  her  hands  for  a  moment  before  shf 
went  to  do  her  last  duty  for  Jerry-Jo. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  following  June  Priscilla  Glenn  graduated. 
She  and  John  Boswell  grew  quite  merry  over 
the  event. 

"I  really  can't  let  you  spend  anything  on  me," 
she  said  laughingly;  "nothing  more  than  the  cost 
of  a  few  flowers.  I  have  the  awful  weight  of  debt 
upon  me  at  the  beginning  of  my  career.  One  hun- 
dred dollars  to  Master  Farwell,  and ' 

"The  funeral  expenses  of  that  poor  waif  you  were 
so  interested  in!  My  dear  child,  you  are  as  nig- 
gardly with  your  philanthropies  as  you  are  with  your 
favours.  Why  not  be  generous  with  me?  And,  by 
the  way,  can  you  tell  me  just  why  that  young  fellow 
appealed  to  you  so?  I  daresay  other  'unknowns' 
drift  into  St.  Albans." 

"He  looked  —  you  will  think  me  foolish,  Mr. 
Boswell  —  but  he  looked  like  some  one  I  once  knew 
in  Kenmore." 

The  warm  June  day  drifted  sunnily  into  Boswell's 
study  window.  There  was  a  fragrance  of  flowers  and 
the  note  of  birds.  Priscilla,  in  her  plain  white  linen 
dress,  was  sitting  on  the  broad  window  seat,  and 
Boswell,  from  his  winged  chair,  looked  at  her  with  a 

257 


258   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

tightening  of  the  throat.  There  were  times  when 
she  made  him  feel  as  he  felt  when  Farwell  Maxwell 
used  to  look  at  him  before  the  shadow  fell  between 
them  —  the  shadow  that  darkened  both  their  lives. 

"And  that  was  why  you  had  a  —  a  Kenmore  name 
graven  on  the  stone?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Boswell,  Jerry- Jo  McAlpin.  Jerry-Jo 
is  dead,  too,  you  know.  They  name  living  people 
after  dead  ones.  Why  not  dead  people?" 

"Why,  indeed?  It's  quite  an  idea.  Quite  an 
original  idea.  But  as  to  my  spending  money  on  your 
graduation,  a  little  more  added  to  what  you  already 
owe  me  will  not  count,  and,  besides,  there  is  that 
trifle  left  from  Farwell's  loan  still  to  your  credit." 

"Now,  Mr.  Boswell,  don't  press  me  too  close!  I 
was  a  sad  innocent  when  I  came  from  the  In-Place, 
and  a  joke  is  a  joke,  but  you  mustn't  bank  on  it." 

The  bright  head  nodded  cheerfully  at  the  small, 
crumpled  figure  in  the  deep  chair. 

"After  you  live  in  New  York  three  years,  Mr. 
Boswell,  you  never  mistake  a  shilling  for  a  dollar,  sir. 
But  just  because  it  is  such  a  heavenly  day  —  and 
between  you  and  me,  how  much  of  that  magic  fund 
is  left?" 

"IVe  mislaid  rriy  account,"  Boswell  replied,  the 
look  that  Toky  watched  for  stealing  over  his  thin 
face;  "but,  roughly  speaking,  I  should  say  that, 
with  the  interest  added,  about  fifty  dollars,  perhaps 
a  trifle  more." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    259 

Priscilla  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed  merrily. 

"I  can  understand  why  people  say  your  style  is 
so  absorbing,"  she  said  presently;  "you  make  even 
the  absurd  seem  probable." 

"Who  have  you  heard  comment  on  my  style?" 
Boswell  leaned  forward.  He  was  as  sensitive  as  a 
child  about  his  work. 

"Oh,  one  of  the  doctors  at  St.  Albans  told  me  that, 
to  him,  you  were  the  Hans  Christian  Andersen 
of  grown-ups.  He  always  reads  you  after  a  long 
strain." 

A  flush  touched  the  sallow  cheeks,  and  the  long, 
white  fingers  tapped  the  chair  arms  nervously. 

"Well!"  with  a  satisfied  laugh,  "I  can  prove  the 
amount  to  your  credit  in  this  case  without  resorting 
to  my  style.  Would  you  mind  going  inte  your  old 
room  and  looking  at  the  box  that  you  will  find  on 
the  couch?" 

Priscilla  ran  lightly  from  the  study,  her  eyes  and 
cheeks  telling  the  story  of  her  delight. 

The  box  was  uncovered.  Some  sympathetic  hand, 
as  fine  as  a  woman's,  had  bared  the  secret  for  her. 
No  mother  could  possibly  have  thought  out  detail 
and  perfection  more  minutely.  There  it  lay,  the 
gift  of  a  generous  man  to  a  lonely  girl,  everything 
for  her  graduating  night!  The  filmy  gown  with  its 
touch  of  colour  in  embroidered  thistle  flowers;  the 
slippers  and  gloves;  even  the  lace  scarf,  cloud-like 
and  alluring;  the  long  gloves  and  silken  hose. 


26o  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Down  beside  the  couch  Priscilla  knelt  and  pressed 
her  head  against  the  sacred  gift.  She  did  not  cry 
nor  laugh,  but  the  rapt  look  that  used  to  mark  her 
hours  before  the  shrine  in  Kenmore  grew  and  grew 
upon  her  face. 

"You  will  accept?  You  think  I  did  well  in  my  — 
shopping?" 

Boswell  stood  in  the  doorway,  just  where  a  long 
path  of  late  June  sunlight  struck  across  the  room. 
For  the  girl,  looking  mutely  at  him  with  shining  eyes, 
he  was  transfigured,  translated.  Only  the  great, 
tender  soul  was  visible  to  her;  the  unasking,  the  kind 
spirit.  Moved  by  a  sudden  impulse,  Priscilla  rose 
to  her  feet  and  walked  to  him  with  outstretched 
hands;  when  she  reached  him  he  took  her  hands  in 
his  and  smiled  up  at  her. 

"I  —  I  accept,"  she  whispered  with  a  break  in 
her  voice.  "You  have  made  me  —  happier  than  I 
have  ever  been  in  my  life!" 

Boswell  drew  her  hands  to  his  lips  and  kissed  them. 

"And  you  will  come  and  see  me  in  them"  -  Pris- 
cilla turned  her  eyes  to  the  box — "when  I  —  dance  ? " 

"You  are  to  dance?" 

"We  are  all  to  dance." 

"I  have  not  seen  you  dance  for  many  a  day.  If 
you  dance  as  you  once  did  there  will  be  only  you 
dancing.  Yes,  I  will  come." 

And  Boswell  went.  The  exercises  were  held  in  the 
little  chapel.  From  his  far  corner  he  watched  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    261 

young  women,  in  uniforms  of  spotless  white,  file  to 
the  platform  for  their  diplomas.  They  all  merged, 
for  him,  into  one  —  a  tall,  lithe  creature  with  bur- 
nished hair,  coppery  and  fine,  and  an  exalted  face. 
Later,  from  behind  the  mass  of  palms  and  ferns  in 
the  dancing  hall,  he  saw  only  one  girl  —  a  girl  in 
white  with  the  tints  of  the  thistle  flower  matching  the 
deep  eyes. 

And  Priscilla  danced.  Some  one,  a  young  doctor, 
asked  her,  and  fortunately  for  him  he  was  a  master 
hand  at  following.  After  a  moment  of  surprise, 
tinged  with  excited  determination,  he  found  himself, 
with  his  brilliant  partner,  the  centre  of  attraction. 

"Look!  oh,  do  look  at  the  little  Canuck!"  cried  a 
classmate. 

"I  never  saw  any  one  dance  as  she  does"  -  it  was 
Doctor  Travers  who  spoke  from  the  doorway  beside 
Mrs.  Thomas-  "but  once  before.  It's  quite  pri- 
meval, an  instinct.  No  one  can  teach  or  acquire  such 
grace  as  that." 

Then,  suddenly,  and  apropos  of  nothing,  appar- 
ently: 

"By  the  way,  Mrs.  Thomas,  Miss  Moffatt  has 
been  ordered  abroad  by  Doctor  Ledyard.  He  spoke 
to-day  about  securing  a  companion-nurse  for  her. 
She's  not  really  ill,  but  in  rather  a  curious  nervous 
condition.  I  was  wondering  if "  His  eyes  fol- 
lowed Priscilla,  who  was  nearing  the  cluster  of  palms 
behind  which  Boswell  sat. 


262   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Of  course!"  Mrs.  Thomas  smiled  broadly;  "Miss 
Glynn,  of  course!  She's  made  to  order.  The  girl 
has  her  way  to  make.  She's  been  rather  overdoing 
lately.  I  don't  like  the  look  in  her  eyes  at  times. 
She  never  asks  for  sympathy  or  consideration,  you 
understand,  but  she  makes  every  woman,  and  man, 
too,  judging  by  that  rich  cripple,  Mr.  Boswell,  yearn 
over  her.  She'd  be  the  merriest  soul  on  earth,  with 
half  a  chance,  and  she's  the  most  capable  girl  I  have: 
ready  for  an  emergency;  never  weary.  Why,  of 
course,  Miss  Glynn!" 

"I'll  speak  to  Doctor  Ledyard  to-night,"  said 
Travers. 

Then,  strangely  enough,  Travers  realized  that  he 
was  very  tired.  He  excused  himself,  and,  walking 
back  through  the  dim  city  streets  to  the  Ledyard 
home,  he  thought  of  Kenmore  and  the  old  lodge  as 
he  had  not  for  years. 

"I  believe  I'll  run  up  there  this  summer,"  he  mut- 
tered half  aloud.  "I'll  take  mother  and  urge  Doctor 
Ledyard  to  join  us.  I  would  like  to  see  how  far 
I've  travelled  from  the  In-Place  in  —  why  it's  years 
and  years!  All  the  way  from  boyhood  to  manhood." 

But  Ledyard  changed  the  current  of  his  desire. 
The  older  man  was  sitting  in  his  library  when  Travers 
entered,  and  Helen  Travers  was  in  the  deep  window 
opening  to  the  little  garden  space  behind  the  house. 

Time  had  dealt  so  gently  with  Helen  that  now,  in 
her  thin  white  gown,  she  looked  even  younger  than 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    263 

in  the  Kenmore  days,  when  her  dress  had  been  more 
severe. 

"You're  late,"  said  Ledyard,  looking  keenly  at 
him. 

"Very  late,"  echoed  Helen,  smiling.  "I  had  din- 
ner here  and  am  waiting  to  be  escorted  home." 

"She's  refused  my  company.  Where  have  you 
been,  Dick?" 

"I  had  to  give  out  the  diplomas,  you  know,  at  St. 
Albans." 

"It's  after  eleven  now,  Dickie."  Helen's  gaze  was 
full  of  gentle  pride. 

"I  stopped  for  an  hour  to  see  those  little  girls 
play.' 

"The  nurses?"  Ledyard  frowned.  "Girls  and 
nurses  are  not  one  and  the  same  thing,  to  a  doctor.'* 

"Oh,  come,  come,  dear  friend!"  Helen  Travers 
went  close  to  the  two  who  were  dearest  to  her  in  the 
world.  "Do  not  be  unmerciful.  Being  a  woman, 
I  must  stand  up  for  my  sex.  Did  they  play  prettily, 
Dick?  I'm  sure  they  did  not  look  as  dear  as  they 
do  in  their  uniforms." 

"One  did.  She  was  —  well,  to  put  it  concisely, 
she  was  a  —  dance!" 

"Umph!  That  ruddy-headed  one,  I  bet!"  Led- 
yard turned  on  another  electric  light.  "See  here, 
Dick,  do  you  think  that  girl  could  go  abroad  with 
Gordon  Moffatt's  daughter?  Moffatt  spoke  about 
her.  She  rather  impressed  him  while  he  was  in  St. 


264   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Albans.  She  stood  up  against  him.  He  never  for- 
gets that  sort;  he  swears  at  it,  but  he  trusts  it.  The 
old  housekeeper  is  going  along  to  keep  the  party  in 
order,  but  a  trained  hand  ought  to  go,  too.  The 
Moffatt  girl  has  the  new  microbe  —  Unrest.  It's 
playing  the  devil  with  her  nerves.  She's  got  to  be 
jogged  into  shape." 

"I  think  we  could  prevail  upon  Miss  Glynn  to  go. 
She  has  her  way  to  make.     She's  been  rather  - 
Travers  stopped  short;  he  was  quoting  Mrs.  Thomas 
too  minutely. 

"Rather  what,  Dick?"  Helen  had  her  head 
against  her  boy's  shoulder. 

"Hunting  a  job,"  he  lied  manfully.  "Most  of 
those  girls  are  up  against  it  once  the  training  is 
over." 

"And  Dick,"  Helen  raised  her  eyes,  "Doctor 
Ledyard  and  I  were  talking  of  a  trip  abroad  this 
summer  for  —  ourselves.  Will  you  come  ?  We  want 
the  off-the-track  places.  Little  by-products,  you 
know.  I'm  hungry  for  —  well,  for  detachment;  but 
with  those  I  love." 

"Just  the  thing,  little  mother,  just  the  thing!" 
The  In-Place  faded  from  sight.  In  its  stead  rose  a 
lonely  mountain  peak  that  caught  the  first  touch 
of  day  and  held  it  longest.  A  little  lake  lay  at  its 
foot,  and  there  was  the  old  house  where  he  and  Helen 
had  spent  so  much  of  the  summer  while  he  and  she 
were  abroad! 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   265 

"Where  does  Miss  Moffatt  intend  to  go?"  asked 
Travers. 

"That's  it.  Her  ideas  at  present  are  typical  of 
her  condition.  'Snip  the  cord  that  holds  me,'  she 
said  to  me  to-day;  'beg  father  to  give  me  a  handful 
of  blank  checks  and  old  Mousey'  -  that's  what  she 
calls  the  housekeeper  —  '  buy  a  nice  nurse  for  me  in 
case  I  need  one  —  a  nice  un-nurse-like  nurse,'  she 
stipulated  -  -  'and  let  me  play  around  the  world  for 
a  few  months  to  see  if  I  can  find  my  real  self  hiding 
in  some  cranny;  then  I'll  come  back  and  be  good!' 
The  girl's  a  fool,  but  most  girls  are  when  they've 
been  brought  up  as  she  has  been.  Moffatt  is  at  his 
wits'  end.  Young  Clyde  Huntter  is  on  the  carpet 
just  now.  Think  of  that  match!  think  of  what  it 
would  mean  to  Moffatt!  There  are  times  when  I 
regret  the  club  and  cliff-dwelling  age  where  women 
are  concerned." 

"Now,  now,  my  dear  friend,  please  remember  my 
sex." 

Helen  ran  from  Richard  to  Ledyard.  "We're 
all  fagged,  and  the  June  night  is  sultry.  After  all, 
girls,  even  women,  should  be  allowed  a  mind  of  their 
own!  Take  me  home,  Dick,  I'm  deeply  offended." 
She  smiled  and  held  out  her  hands. 

"If  they  were  all  as  sane  as  you,  Helen,"  Ledyard's 
glance  softened.  "You  are  exceptional." 

"Every  woman  is  an  exceptional  something,  good 
-friend,  if  only  an  exceptional  fool.  I'm  rather  proud 


266  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

of  Margaret  Moffatt's  determination  to  have  her 
way,  and  that  idea  of  finding  herself  in  some  cranny 
of  the  old  world  is  simply  beautiful.  I  wonder " 

"What,  Helen?" 

"I  wonder  if  an  old  lady  like  me,  a  lady  with  hair 
turning  frosty,  might,  by  any  possibility,  find  her 
real  self  left  back  there  —  oh!  ages,  ages  before  — 
well,  before  things  happened  which  she  never  under- 
stood?" 

Ledyard's  eyes  grew  moist,  but  he  made  no  reply. 

It  was  three  days  later  that  Priscilla  Glenn  re- 
ceived a  note  from  Margaret  Moffatt,  but  she  had 
already  been  prepared  for  it  by  Doctor  Ledyard  and 
Mrs.  Thomas. 

"Since  they  think  I  need  a  nurse,"  the  note  ran, 
"will  you  call  at  eleven  to-morrow  and  see  if  you 
consider  me  sufficiently  damaged  to  require  your 
care?  From  what  father  says,  I  am  prepared  to 
succumb  to  you  at  once.  Both  father  and  I  like 
strong  oppositions ! " 

The  June  weather  had  turned  chilly  after  the  brief 
spell  of  heat,  and  when  Priscilla  was  ushered  into 
Margaret  Moffatt's  private  library  she  found  a  bright 
cannel  coal  fire  in  the  little  grate,  beside  which  sat  a 
tall,  handsome  girl  in  house  gown  of  creamy  white. 

"And  so  you  are  —  Miss  Glynn?" 

As  a  professional  accepts  a  non  de  plume,  Pris- 
cilla had  accepted  her  name. 

"Yes.     And  you  are  —  Miss  Moffatt?" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    267 

"Please  sit  down  —  no,  not  way  off  there!  Won't 
you  take  this  chair  beside  me?  I'm  rather  an  un- 
canny person,  I  warn  you.  If  I  do  not  like  to  have 
you  close  to  me  now,  we  could  never  get  on  —  across 
the  water!  What  belongs  to  me,  and  what  I  ought 
to  have,  is  mine  from  the  first.  Besides,  I  want  you 
to  know  the  worst  of  me  —  for  your  own  sake. 
Would  you  mind  taking  off  your  hat?  You  have 
the  most  cheerful  hair  I  ever  saw." 

Priscilla  laid  her  broad-brimmed  hat  aside  and 
laughed  lightly.  She  was  as  uncanny  as  Margaret 
Moffatt,  but  she  could  not  have  described  the  charm 
that  drew  her  to  the  girl  across  the  hearth. 

"I'm  rather  a  hopelessly  cheerful  person,"  she 
said,  settling  herself  comfortably;  "it's  probably  my 
chief  virtue  —  or  shortcoming." 

" You  know  I  am  not  a  bit  sick  —  bodily,  Miss 
Glynn.  It's  positively  ridiculous  to  have  a  nurse 
for  me,  but  if  I  am  to  get  my  way  with  my  father  I 
must  humour  him.  A  dear  old  family  servant  is 
going  with  me.  Father  did  want  a  private  cook 
and  guide,  but  we've  compromised  on  —  you!  I  do 
hope  you'll  undertake  the  contract.  I'm  not  half 
bad  when  I  have  my  way.  Do  you  think,  now  that 
you  have  seen  me  for  fifteen  minutes,  that  you  could 
—  tolerate  me;  take  the  chance?" 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  be  with  you."  Priscilla 
beamed. 

"Your  eyes  are  —  blue,  I  declare!    Miss  Glynn, 


268   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

by  all  the  laws  of  nature  you  should  have  eyes  as 
dark  as  mine.'* 

"Yes;  an  old  nurse  back  in  my  Canadian  home 
used  to  say  I  was  made  of  the  odds  and  ends  of  all 
the  children  my  mother  had  and  lost." 

"What  a  quaint  idea!  I  believe  she  was  right, 
too.  That  will  make  you  adaptable.  Miss  Glynn, 
let  me  tell  you  something,  just  enough  to  begin  on, 
about  myself — as  a  case.  I'm  tired  to  death  of  every- 
thing that  has  gone  before;  I  do  not  fit  in  anywhere. 
I  believe  I'm  quite  a  different  person  from  what 
every  one  else  believes;  I've  never  had  a  chance  to 
know  myself;  I've  been  interpreted  by  —  by  genera- 
tions, traditions,  and  those  who  love  me.  I  want 
to  get  far  enough  away  to  —  get  acquainted  with 
myself,  and  then  if  I  am  what  I  hope  I  am,  I  will 
return  like  a  happy  queen  and  triumphantly  enter 
my  kingdom.  If  I  am  not  worthy  —  well,  we  will 
not  talk  about  that!  Something,  I  may  tell  you 
some  day,  has  suddenly  awakened  me.  I'm  rather 
blinded  and  deafened.  I  must  have  time.  Can  you 
bear  with  me?" 

Margaret  Moffatt  leaned  forward  in  her  chair. 
Priscilla  saw  that  her  large  brown  eyes  were  tear- 
filled;  the  strong,  white,  outstretched  hands  trem- 
bling. A  wave  of  sympathy,  understanding,  and 
great  liking  overwhelmed  Priscilla,  and  she  rose  sud- 
denly and  stood  beside  the  girl. 

"I  —  think   I   was   meant  —  to   help   you,"  she 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    269 

said  so  simply  that  she  could  not  be  misunderstood. 
"When  do  we  — go?" 

"Go?     Oh!  you  mean  on  the  hunt  for  myself?" 

"Yes." 

"Father  has  the  refusal  of  staterooms  on  two 
steamers.  Could  you  start  in  —  a  week?  Or  shall 
we  say  three  weeks  ? " 

"It  will  not  take  me  a  day  to  get  ready.  My 
uniforms " 

"Please,  Miss  Glynn,  leave  them  behind.  I'm 
sure  you're  just  a  nice  girl  besides  being  a  splendid 
nurse.  I  want  the  nice  girl  with  me." 

"Very  well.     That  may  take  two  days  longer." 

"We'll  sail,  then,  in  a  week.  And  will  you  —  will 
you  —  will  you  accept  something  in  advance,  since 
time  is  so  short?" 

"Something-     -  ?" 

"Yes.     Your  —  your  salary,  you  know." 

"Oh,  you  mean  money?  I  had  forgot.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  some.  I  am  very  poor." 

Again  the  simple,  frank  dignity  touched  Margaret 
Moffatt  with  pleasurable  liking. 

"It's  to  be  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month 
and  all  expenses  paid,  Miss  Glynn." 

"A  hundred  and  fifty?     Oh!  I  cannot " 

"Doctor  Ledyard  arranged  it  with  my  father. 
You  see,  they  know  what  you  are  to  undergo.  I 
rather  incline  to  the  belief  that  they  consider  they 
are  making  quite  a  bargain.  I  hate  to  see  you  cover 


270  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

your  hair.  Somehow  you  seem  to  be  dimming  the 
sunshine.  Good-bye  until ' 

"Day  after  to-morrow." 

"I  will  send  a  check  to  St.  Albans  to-night,  Miss 
Glynn." 

And  she  did.  A  check  for  two  hundred  dollars 
with  a  box  of  yellow  roses  —  Sunrise  roses  they  were 
called. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THERE  are  times  in  life,  especially  when  one 
is  young,  that  high  peaks  are  the  only  land- 
marks in  sight.  Priscilla  Glenn  felt  that 
henceforth  her  Road  was  to  be  a  highway  con- 
structed in  such  a  fashion  that  airy  bridges  would 
connect  the  lofty  altitudes,  and  all  below  would 
exist  merely  as  views. 

Her  first  thought,  on  the  day  following  her  inter- 
view with  Margaret  Moffatt,  was  to  get  to  John 
Boswell,  and,  as  she  laughingly  put  it,  pay  off  her 
debts! 

"Two  hundred  dollars  and  a  full  month's  money 
from  St.  Albans!  Gordon  Moffatt  certainly  could 
not  feel  richer  than  she.  And  then  the  months 
ahead!  Well  —  one  could  get  dizzy  on  one's  own 
heights.  So  Priscilla  calmed  herself  by  a  day  of 
strenuous  shopping  and  looked  forward  to  the  even- 
ing with  Boswell. 

A  dim  drizzle  set  in  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  there 
was  a  chill  in  the  air  that  penetrated  sharply.  The 
mist  transformed  everything,  and,  to  tired,  over- 
excited nerves,  the  real  had  a  touch  of  the  unreal. 
The  park  glistened:  the  tender  new  green  on  tree, 

271 


272   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

bush,  and  grass  looked  as  if  it  had  just  been  polished, 
and  the  early  flowers  stood  crisply  on  their  young 
stalks. 

At  the  point  where  once  she  had  met  poor  Jerry- 
Jo  McAlpin,  Priscilla  paused  and  was  taken  into 
control  by  memory  and  the  long-ago  Past.  Quite 
unaccountably,  she  longed  to  have  her  mother,  even 
her  father,  know  of  her  wellbeing.  Surely  they 
would  forgive  everything  if  they  knew  just  how 
things  had  turned  out  for  her!  She  almost  wished 
she  had  decided  to  go  back  to  the  In-Place  before 
she  started  on  her  trip  abroad.  She  could  have 
made  them  understand  about  her  and  poor  Jerry-Jo. 
Was  old  Jerry  waiting  and  waiting?  Something 
clutched  Priscilla  sharply.  The  loneliness  and  si- 
lence of  the  Place  Beyond  the  Winds  enfolded  her 
like  a  compelling  dream.  How  they  could  patiently 
wait,  those  home  folks  of  hers!  And  how  dear  they 
suddenly  became,  now  that  she  was  going  into  the 
new  life  that  promised  her  her  Heart's  Desire! 

Then  she  decided:  since  she  could  not  go  to 
them  she  must  write  to  Master  Farwell,  he  had  never 
answered  her  last  letter,  and  beg  him  to  tell  them  all 
about  it.  He  would  go,  she  felt  sure,  and,  by  some 
subtle  magic,  she  seemed  to  see  him  passing  along 
the  red-rock  road,  his  long-caped  coat  flapping  in 
the  soft  wind,  his  hair  blowing  across  his  face,  the 
dogs  following  sociably.  He'd  go  first  to  old  Jerry's, 
and  then  afterward,  an  hour,  maybe,  for  it  would 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   273 

be  hard  for  Jerry  McAlpin  —  he  would  go  to  Lonely 
Farm  by  way  of  the  wood  path  that  led  by  the 
shrine  in  the  open  place  —  was  the  skull  still  there 
with  the  long-dead  grasses  in  its  ears?  It  would  be 
night,  perhaps,  when  the  master  reached  the  farm; 
maybe  the  star  would  be  shining  over  the  hem- 
lock   

At  this  point  Priscilla  paused  and  caught  her 
breath  sharply.  She  had  come  out  of  the  park  by 
the  gateway  opposite  Boswell's  apartment,  and  just 
ahead  of  her,  across  the  street,  was  a  thin,  stooping 
figure  with  caped  coat  flapping  in  the  rising  wind, 
and  hair  blowing  across  a  bent  face. 

"I  —  I  am  dreaming!"  The  words  came  bro- 
kenly. "I  am  bewitched!'* 

But  with  characteristic  quickness  of  thought  and 
action  she  put  her  doubt  to  the  test.  Running  across 
the  space  between  her  and  that  slow-stepping  figure 
she  panted  huskily: 

"Master  Farwell!    Master  Farwell!" 

He  turned  and  fixed  his  deep,  haunting  eyes  upon 
her. 

"It's  Priscilla  Glenn!"  he  whispered,  as  if  to  reas- 
sure himself;  "little  Priscilla  of  the  In-Place." 

By  some  trick  of  over-stimulated  imagination  Pris- 
cilla  tried  to  adjust  the  gentle,  kindly  man  she 
knew  and  loved  to  the  strange  creature  into  which 
he  had  evolved  since  last  she  met  him,  but  she  could 
not!  To  her  he  would  always  be  the  friend  and 


274  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

helper,  the  understanding  guide  of  her  stormy  girl- 
hood. The  rest  was  but  shadows  that  came  and 
went,  cast  by  happenings  with  which  she  had  nothing 
to  do. 

They  were  holding  each  other's  hands  under  the 
window  from  which  Boswell  was,  perhaps,  at  that 
very  moment  watching  and  waiting. 

"Oh!  my  Master  Farwell!"  The  tears  rolled 
from  the  glad  eyes.  "I  did  not  know  how  far  and 
how  sadly  I  had  gone  until  this  minute!" 

"But  you  have  not  forgotten  to  be  little  Priscilla 
Glenn.  My  dear!  my  dear!  how  glad  and  thankful 
I  am  to  see  you.  You  have  grown  —  yes;  you  have 
grown  into  the  woman  I  knew  you  would.  Your 
eyes  are  —  faithful;  your  lips  still  smile.  Oh!  Pris- 
cilla, the  world  has  not"  —  he  paused  and  his  old, 
quivering  laugh  rang  out  cautiously  —  "the  world 
has  not  —  doshed  you!" 

And  then  Priscilla  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"You  have  not  seen  —  him?"  she  looked  upward. 

"No.  I  was  getting  up  my  courage.  The  bird 
just  freed  from  its  cage  —  is  timid." 

"Come!  A  minute  will  not  matter.  I  must  know 
about  my  home  people." 

They  walked  on  together.  Then,  because  her 
heart  was  beating  fast  and  the  tears  lying  near,  she 
drew  close  to  her  deepest  interest  by  a  circuitous  way. 

"Tell  me  of — of  Mrs.  McAdam  and  Jerry  Me- 
Alpin?" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   275 

"Mrs.  McAdam  is  famous  and  rich.  The  White 
Fish  Lodge  has  a  waiting  list  every  summer.  The  — 
the  body  of  Sandy  drifted  into  the  Channel  a  month 
after  you  left.  Bounder  found  it.  You  remember 
how  he  used  to  know  the  sound  of  Sandy's  engine? 
The  day  the  body  was  washed  up  he  —  seemed  to 
know.  One  grave  is  filled,  and  Mary  McAdam  has 
put  a  monument  between  the  two  graves  with  the 
names  of  both  boys.  Jerry  McAlpin  has  grown  old 
and  —  and  respectable.  He  has  a  fancy  that  Jerry- 
Jo  will  come  back  a  fine  gentleman.  All  these  years 
he  has  been  preparing  for  the  prodigal.  The  young 
devil  has  never  sent  a  line  to  his  father.  A  bad  lot 
was  Jerry-Jo." 

And  then  Priscilla  told  her  story  with  many  a 
catch  in  her  voice. 

"You  see  —  he  did  it  for  me,  Master  Farwell. 
He  was  not  all  bad.  Who  is,  I  wonder?  He  lies  in 
a  quiet  spot  Mr.  Boswell  and  I  found  far  out  in  the 
country.  There's  a  hemlock  nearby  and  a  glimpse 
of  water.  I  —  I  think  I  will  not  let  old  Jerry  know. 
While  he  waits,  he  is  happy.  While  he  is  getting 
ready,  life  will  mean  something  to  him.  And  oh! 
Master  Farwell,  when  —  when  Jerry- Jo  went,  he 
thought  he  was  going  through  the  Secret  Portage 
to  the  Big  Bay.  I  believe  he  will  —  welcome  his 
father  in  the  open  some  day.  I  will  not  send  word 
back  to  the  In-Place." 

Farwell  frowned. 


276  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Boswell  has  touched  you  with  his  fanciful  meth- 
ods," he  muttered;  "is  it  —  for  the  best?" 

"I  am  sure  it  is.  And  —  my  —  my  people,  Mas- 
ter Farwell,  my  mother?" 

At  this  Farwell  started  and  stepped  back.  The 
light  from  an  electric  lamp  fell  full  on  the  girl's 
quivering,  brilliant  face.  He  had  told  Boswell  of  the 
mother's  death. 

"You  —  you  did  not  know?"  he  asked.  "She 
died- 

"Died?     Master  Farwell,  my  mother  dead!" 

"You  see  —  how  it  hurts  when  Boswell  plays  with 
you?" 

A  note  of  bitterness  crept  into  the  voice. 

"When  the  day  of  reckoning  comes  —  it  hurts, 
it  hurts  like  — hell!" 

He  had  forgotten  the  girl,  the  white,  frantic 
face. 

"Tell  me,  tell  me  when  she,  my  poor  mother, 
died?" 

The  words  brought  him  back  sharply,  and  with 
wonderful  tenderness  he  told  her. 

"Long  Jean  was  with  her.  She  would  have  her 
and  no  other,  because  she  said  Jean  had  helped  you 
into  the  world  and  only  she  should  help  her  out. 
It  is  a  beautiful  story  they  tell  in  Kenmore  of  your 
mother's  passing.  She  thought  she  was  going  to 
you.  She  seemed  quite  happy  once  she  found  the 
way! 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    277 

"'I  have  found  her!'  she  cried  just  at  the  last, 
"'and  she  —  understands!"1 

"And  I  did,  I  did!"  sobbed  Priscilla. 

A  passerby  noticed  the  sound  and  paused  to  look 
at  the  two  sharply. 

"Come,  come,"  Farwell  implored  her;  "we  will 
arouse  suspicion.  Let  us  get  back  to  —  to  Boswell. 
I  haven't  much  time,  you  see.  I  have  promised 
Pine  to  be  back  in  ten  days.  Ten  days!" 

"You  promised  —  Pine?" 

"And  you  never  knew?"  Farwell  gave  an  ugly 
laugh.  "Well,  I  carried  the  ball  and  chain  without 
a  whimper,  I  can  say  that  for  myself.  Pine  is  my 
ball  and  chain.  Because  he  isn't  all  devil,  because 
he  knows  I  am  not,  he  went  off  to  play  on  Wyland 
Island.  You  know  they  kill  the  devil  there  the 
second  week  in  June.  Have  you  forgotten?  Well, 
Pine  has  gone  to  take  a  stab  at  satan,  and  I'm  free  — 
for  ten  days.  Free!" 

"And  then?" 

"And  then  I'm  going  back  voluntarily,  and  — 
assume  the  ball  and  chain!" 

"Master  Farwell!" 

"Do  not  pity  me!  It  doesn't  matter  now.  I  only 
wanted  to  —  settle  with  Boswell.  I've  been  in  town 
—  three  days." 

They  were  nearing  the  big  apartment  house;  lights 
from  the  windows  were  showing  cheerily  through 
the  misty  fog.  A  chill  fear  shook  Priscilla  as  she 


278   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

began  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  Far-well's  words. 
In  her  life  Boswell,  and  this  man  beside  her,  stood 
for  friendship  in  its  truest,  highest  sense,  and  she 
felt  that  she  must  hold  them  together  in  spite  of 
everything.  She  stood  still  and  gripped  Farwell's 
arm. 

"You  —  you  shall  not  go  to  him,"  she  whispered, 
"until  you  tell  me  —  how  you  are  to  pay  him  —  for 
what  he  has  done!" 

Farwell's  white,  grim  face  confronted  her. 

"How  does  one  pay  another  for  lying  to  him,  cheat- 
ing him,  and  —  and  playing  with  him  as  though  he 
were  an  idiot  or  a  child?" 

"Why  did  he  do  it,  Master  Farwell,  why  did  he  do 
it?" 

"  Because "  But  for  very  shame  Farwell  hesi- 
tated. "  It  makes  no  difference,"  he  muttered.  " I'm 
no  fool  and  Boswell  shall  find  it  out." 

"He  has  told  me  —  the  story."  Priscilla  still 
stayed  the  straining  figure.  "All  his  life  he  has 
given  and  given  to  you  all  that  was  in  his  power  to 
give.  He  is  the  noblest  man  I  ever  knew,  the  gen- 
tlest and  kindest,  and  I  never  knew  a  man  could  love 
another  as  he  has  loved  you.  What  have  you  given 
to  him  —  really?  The  smiles  and  jokes  of  the  days 
long  ago  that  were  heavenly  to  him  —  what  did 
they  cost  you?  He  gave,  and  gave  his  heart's  best; 
he  lied  and  cheated  you,  that  you  might  have  — 
some  sort  of  peace  in  —  in  Kenmore.  Oh!  if  you 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   279 

only  knew  how  he  has  hated  it  all,  how  he  has  strug- 
gled to  keep  up  the  play  even  when  he  was  so  weary 
that  the  soul  of  him  almost  gave  out!  And  now 
you  come  to  —  to  pay  him  with  hate  and  revenge 
when  you  have  the  only  thing  he  wants  in  all  the 
world  at  your  command  —  to  give  him!'* 

The  impassioned  words  fell  into  silence;  the  up- 
lifted face  with  its  shining  eyes,  mist-wet  and  in- 
dignant, aroused  Farwell  at  last. 

"And  that  is?"  he  asked. 

"Yourself!  your  faith!  See,  that  is  his  light.  He 
is  waiting  —  for  me,  because,  since  you  sent  me  to 
him,  he  has  been  kind,  heavenly  kind  to  me,  for 
your  sake!  Everything  is,  has  always  been,  for 
your  sake.  Go  to  him,  Master  Farwell  —  go  alone. 
I  will  come  by  and  by;  not  now.  Pay  him  for  all 
he  has  done  for  you  —  all  these  lonely  years!" 

Farwell  no  longer  struggled.  He  took  Priscilla's 
hands  in  a  long,  close  clasp. 

"What  a  woman  you  have  become,  Priscilla  Glenn! 
Thank  you." 

Without  a  word  more  they  parted:  Farwell  to 
go  to  the  reckoning;  Priscilla  to  walk  in  the  mist  for 
a  bit  longer. 

All  that  occurred  in  Boswell's  library  Priscilla  was 
never  to  know. 

There  had  been  a  moment  of  shock  when  Boswell, 
raising  his  eyes  to  greet  Priscilla,  saw  Farwell  Max- 
well standing  in  the  doorway. 


280   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"You  have  come!"  Boswell  gasped,  with  every 
sacred  thing  at  stake. 

"I  —  have  come." 

"For  — what  — Max?" 

"To  —  to  thank  you,  if  I  can.  To  —  to  tell  you 
my  story." 

In  the  outer  room  Toky  artistically  held  the  dinner 
back.  The  honourable  master  and  his  strange  but 
equally  honourable  friend  must  not  be  disturbed. 
Something  was  happening;  but  after  a  time  Bos- 
well  laughed  as  Toky  had  never  heard  him  laugh; 
so  it  was  well,  and  the  dinner  could  bide  its  time. 

Then  Priscilla  came,  wet  and  white-faced,  but  with 
the  "shine-look"  in  her  eyes  that  Toky,  despite  his 
prejudices  and  profession,  had  noted  and  respected. 

"We  will  have  the  dinner  now,  Mees?"  as  if 
Toky  ever  considered  her  to  that  extent! 

"I  will  — see  Mr.  Boswell." 

"He  has  —  honourable  friend." 

"My  friend,  Toky.  The  honourable  friend  is 
mine,  also!  And,  oh!  the  flowers,  Toky!  There  are 
no  roses  like  the  June  roses.  How  wonderfully  you 
have  arranged  them!  A  rose  should  never  be 
crowded." 

Toky  grinned  helplessly. 

"Tree  hours  I  take  to  make  —  look  beautifully. 
One  hour  for  each  —  rosy.  That  why  it  look  beau- 
tifully." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    281 

"Yes,  that  is  why  it  looks  —  beautifully.  Three 
hours  and  —  you,  Toky!" 

Boswell  and  Farwell  were  sitting  in  front  of  the 
grate,  upon  which  the  wood  lay  ready  to  light. 
Their  faces  were  pale  and  haggard,  but  their  eyes 
turned  to  Priscilla  without  shame  or  doubt. 

"There  is  much  —  to  talk  about,"  said  Boswell 
with  his  ready  friendliness;  "Max  —  your  Farwell 
and  mine  —  has  told  me " 

"After  dinner,  dear  friends.  I  am  hungry,  bitterly 
hungry  and  —  cold!" 

"Cold?" 

"Yes;  see,  I  am  going  to  set  the  wood  to  burning. 
By  the  time  we  come  back  the  room  will  be  ready 
for  us." 

"To  be  sure!"  Boswell  sidled  from  his  deep  chair, 
the  pinched  look  on  his  face  relaxing. 

"A  fire,  to  be  sure.  Now,  Max,  no  one  but  a  woman 
would  have  thought  of  a  fire  in  June." 

"No  one  but  Priscilla!"  Farwell  added. 

They  talked  before  the  fire  until  late  that  even- 
ing. Priscilla's  plans  were  discussed  and  con- 
sidered. So  full  was  she  of  excitement  and  joy 
that  she  did  not  notice  the  shock  of  surprise 
that  Farwell  showed  when  the  names  of  Ledyard 
and  Travers  passed  her  lips.  Seeing  that  she 
either  did  not  connect  the  men  with  her  past, 
or  had  reasons  for  not  referring  to  it,  Farwell  held 
his  peace.  It  was  long  afterward  that  he  confided 


282   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

his  knowledge  to  Boswell,  and  that  wise  friend  bade 
him  keep  his  secret. 

"It's  her  life,  and  she's  treading  her  Road,"  he  said; 
"she  has  an  odd  fancy  that  her  Heart's  Desire  lies 
just  ahead.  I  cannot  see  that  either  you  or  I  have 
the  right  to  awaken  her  to  realities  while  she  lives 
so  magically  in  her  dreams." 

After  Priscilla's  own  plans  were  gone  over  and 
over  again,  Boswell  said  quietly: 

"I'm  going  back  to  that  blessed  In-Place  of  yours, 
Butterfly.  You  remember  how  I  told  you,  the  first 
day  I  met  you,  that  I  could  not  understand  any  one 
choosing  the  dangerous  Garden  when  he  might  have 
—  the  Place  Beyond  the  Winds?" 

Priscilla  leaned  forward,  her  breath  coming  sharply. 

"You  mean  —  you  are  going  to  —  to  live  in  Ken- 
more?" 

"Yes!  Live!  That  is  a  bright  way  of  putting  it. 
Live!  live!  The  Beetle  is  —  going  to  live!" 

Priscilla  looked  about  at  the  rich  comfort  of  the 
room,  thought  of  what  it  meant  to  the  delicate  cripple 
crouching  toward  the  blaze,  his  deep  eyes  flame- 
touched  and  wonderful.  Then  she  looked  at  Master 
Farwell,  whose  lips  were  trembling. 

"He  —  he  calls  that  —  living!"  he  said  slowly. 
"Tell  him,  Priscilla,  of  the  bareness  and  hardness  of 
the  life.  I  have  tried  to,  but  he  will  not  listen." 

The  tears,  the  ready,  easy  tears  filled  Priscilla's 
eyes,  and  her  heart  throbbed  until  it  hurt. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   283 

"  He  will  love  the  hemlocks  and  the  deep  red  rocks," 
she  said,  as  if  speaking  to  herself;  "he  will  love  the 
Channel  and  the  little  islands,  he  will  love  the  woods 
—  and  the  wind  does  not  blow  hard  there  —  he 
will  be  glad  of  that." 

"But  the  ugly,  wretched  bareness  of  my  hut,  Pris- 
cilla!  For  heaven's  sake,  make  him  see  that!" 

"But  the  —  fireplace,  Master  Farwell!" 

"And  —  the  friend  beside  it!"  Boswell  broke  in; 
"and  no  more  loneliness.  A  beetle  that  has  crawled 
in  the  Garden  so  long  will  thank  God  for  a  real 
place  —  of  its  own.  'Tis  but  a  change  of  scene  for 
the  Property  Man." 

"I  love  the  Garden!"  murmured  Priscilla,  sitting 
between  the  two  men,  her  clasped  hands  outstretched 
toward  the  fire,  which  was  smouldering  ruddily. 

"That  is  because  you  have  wings,  Butterfly," 
Boswell  whispered. 

"And  no  fetter  on  your  soul,"  Farwell  said  so 
softly  that  only  Boswell  heard. 

"I  see,"  Priscilla  childishly  wandered  on,  "such  a 
lovely  trail  leading,  leading  —  where?" 

"Where,  indeed?"  Boswell  was  watching  her  curi- 
ously. 

"That  is  the  beauty  of  it!  I  cannot  see  beyond 
the  next  step.  All  my  life  I  have  tried  to  keep  my 
yearnings  within  bounds;  now  I  —  just  follow.  It's 
very,  very  wonderful.  Some  day  I  am  going  back 
to  the  In-Place.  I  shall  find  you  both  sitting  by 


284   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Master  Farwell's  beautiful  fire,  I  am  sure.  It  will 
be  the  still  morning  time,  I  think,  and  you  will  be  so 
glad  to  see  me,  and  I  shall  tell  you  —  all  about  it!" 

"Heaven  keep  you!" 

Boswell's  voice  was  solemn  and  deep. 

"Life  will  keep  her  safe,"  Farwell  said  with  a 
laugh.  "Life  will  take  no  liberties  with  her.  She 
got  her  bearings,  Jack,  before  the  winds  knocked 
her.  Let  us  both  walk  home  with  her.  What  sort 
of  a  night  is  it?" 

Priscilla  went  to  the  window. 

"It's  rather  black,"  she  returned;  "as  black  as  the 
big  city  ever  is.  The  mist  is  clearing;  it's  a  beautiful 
night." 


CHAPTER  XX 

OF  COURSE,"  Priscilla  leaned  back  in  her 
deep-cushioned  chair  and  laughed  from  sheer 
delight,  "I  was  a  better  girl  in  my  former  life 
than  I  ever  had  any  idea  of,  or  I  wouldn't  have  been 
given  this " 

She  and  Margaret  Moffatt  were  sitting  on  the 
piazza,  of  a  little  Swiss  inn.  Below  them  lay  a  tiny 
lake  as  blue  and  as  clear  as  a  rare  gem;  round  about 
them  towered  snowy  peaks,  protectingly.  AH  that 
was  past  —  was  past!  There  did  not  seem  to  be 
any  future;  the  present  was  sufficient. 

"I  think  you  must  have  been  rather  a  good  child, 
back  there,"  Margaret  Moffatt  said,  looking  stead- 
fastly at  the  girl  near  her;  "and,  anyway,  you  ought 
to  have  a  rich  reward  for  your  hair  if  for  no  other 
reason." 

"A  recompense,  you  mean?" 

"Heavens!  no!  I  was  thinking,  as  I  often  do 
when  I  see  the  lights  in  your  hair,  that  for  making 
people  so  cheerful  and  contented  nothing  is  too  good 
for  you.  I'm  extremely  fond  of  you,  Priscilla  Giynn! 
It's  only  when  you  put  on  your  cap  and  apron  man- 
ner that  I  recall  —  unpleasant  things.  Just  tuck 

285 


286   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

them  out  of  sight  and  let  us  forget  everything  but  — 
this!     Isn't  it  divine?" 

"It's  —  yes,  it  is  divine,  Miss  Moffatt." 
"Now  then!  Along  with  the  cap  and  apron,  please 
pack  away  Miss  Moffatt  and  Miss  Glynn.  Let  us 
be  Priscilla  and  Margaret.  This  is  a  whim  of  mine, 
but  I  have  a  fancy  for  knowing  what  kind  of  girls  we 
are.  No  one  can  tamper  with  us  here.  Dear  old 
Mousey  never  gets  above  a  dead  level,  or  below  it. 
Practically  we  are  alone  and  detached.  Let  us 
play  —  girls!  Nice,  chummy  girls.  Do  you  know, 
I  never  had  a  friend  in  my  life  who  wasn't  labelled 
and  scheduled  ?  I  was  sent  to  school  where  just  such 
and  such  girls  were  sent  —  girls  proper  for  me  to 
know.  Often  they  were  not,  but  that  was  not  con- 
sidered so  long  as  they  wore  their  labels.  It  wasn't 
deemed  necessary  for  me,  or  my  kind,  to  go  to  col- 
lege: our  lines  of  action  were  chosen  for  us.  Certain 
labelled  men  were  presented;  always  labels,  labels! 
Even  when  I  was  running  about  with  my  label  on 
I  used  to  have  mad  moments  of  longing  to  snatch 
all  the  hideous  things  off  —  my  own  as  well  as 
others  —  and  find  out  the  truth !  And  here  we  are, 
you  and  I!  I  do  not  want  to  know  anything  about 
you;  I  want  to  find  out  for  myself,  in  my  own  way. 
I  want  you  to  forget  that  I  ever  wore  a  tag.  Did 
you  ever  have  a  girl  chum?" 

"I   think  I   know,   now,"   Priscilla  said   quietly, 
"why  this  particular  little  heaven  was  given  to  me. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    287 

I  never,  in  all  my  life,  had  a  girl  friend.     Think  of 
that!     I  did  not  realize  what  I  was  missing  until  I 

—  came  into  your  life.      Actually,  I  never  had  a  girl 
or  woman  friend  in  the  sense  you  mean.     I  was  a 
lonely,  weird  little  child;  and  then  I  —  I  came  to  the 
training  school;  and  the  girls  there  did  not  like  me 

—  I  was  still  weird " 

"Now,  Priscilla,  I  do  not  want  to  know  anything 
more  about  you!  I  intend  to  find  you  out  for  my- 
self. Come,  there's  a  boat  down  there,  big  enough 
for  you  and  me.  Do  you  row?" 

"Yes,  and  paddle." 

"You  lived  near  the  water!     Ha!  ha!" 

"And  you  do  —  not  row,  Margaret?" 

"No." 

"Then  you  have  never  lived  at  all.  You  must 
learn  to  use  oars  and  a  paddle.  It's  when  you  have 
your  own  hand  on  the  power  that  makes  you  go  — 
that  you  live." 

Margaret  MofFatt  turned  and  looked  at  Priscilla. 

"You  say,  haphazard,  the  most  Orphic  things. 
There  are  times  when  I  can  imagine  you  before  some 
shrine  making  an  offering  and  chanting  all  sorts  of 
uncanny  rites.  Of  course  it  is  when  one  has  her 
hand  on  her  own  tiller,  and  is  heading  for  what  she 
wants,  that  she  begins  to  —  live.  I  declare,  I  haven't 
felt  so  young  in  —  twenty  years!  I'm  twenty-five, 
Priscilla.  My  father  considers  me  on  the  danger-line. 
Poor  daddy!" 


288   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 


T 


m 


"I  do  not  want  to  know  your  age,  Priscilla. 
Mythological  characters  are  ageless." 

Those  were  the  days  when  Priscilla  Glenn  and 
Margaret  Moffatt  found  their  youth.  Safeguarded 
by  the  faithful  old  housekeeper,  who,  happily,  could 
understand  and  sympathize,  they  played  the  hours 
away  like  children. 

"We'll  travel  by  and  by,"  promised  Margaret. 
"It's  rather  selfish  for  me  to  hold  you  here  when  all 
the  world  would  be  fresh  to  you." 

"I  take  root  easily,"  Priscilla  returned,  "and  I'm 
like  a  plant  we  have  in  my  old  home.  My  roots 
spread,  and  time  is  needed  to  strengthen  them; 
suddenly  I  shoot  up  and  —  flower.  The  little  Cana- 
dian blossom  doesn't  seem  to  justify  the  strong, 
spreading  roots.  I  hope  you  will  not  find  me  dis- 
appointing, Margaret." 

Margaret  Moffatt  smiled  happily. 

"Just  to  think,"  she  said,  "that  my  real  self  and 
your  real  self  were  waiting  for  us  here  behind  the 
white  hills!  All  along,  through  generations  and  gen- 
erations, they  have  been  acquainted  and  have 
loved  and  trusted  each  other,  and  then  we,  the  un- 
real selves,  came!  Sometimes  I  wonder"  -Mar- 
garet looked  dreamy  —  "what  they  think  of  us,  just 
between  themselves  ?  I  am  sure  your  true  self  must 
be  prouder  of  you  than  mine  can  be  of  me,  for,  with 
everything  at  my  command,  what  am  I?  While 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   289 

you  —  oh,  Priscilla,  how  you  have  made  everything 
tell!" 

But  Priscilla  shook  her  head. 

"Still,"  Margaret  went  on,  "things  were  not  at  my 
command.  They  were  all  there,  but  pigeon-holed 
and  controlled.  Such  and  such  things  were  for  nice 
little  girls  like  me!  After  a  time  I  got  to  believe 
that,  and  it  was  only  when,  one  day,  I  touched  some- 
thing not  intended  for  me  that  my  soul  woke  up. 
Priscilla,  did  you  ever  feel  your  soul?" 

"Yes." 

"Isn't  it  wonderful?  It  makes  you  see  clearly 
your  —  your " 

"Ideal?"  suggested  Priscilla. 

"Yes;  the  thing  you  want  to  be;  the  thing  that 
seems  best  to  you  without  the  interpretation  of 
others.  It  stands  unclouded  and  holy;  and  nothing 
else  matters." 

"And  you  never  forget  —  never!" 

"No.  Your  eyes  may  be  blinded  for  a  moment, 
but  you  do  not  forget  —  ever!" 

They  were  out  on  the  gemlike  lake  now,  and  Pris- 
cilla  was  sternly  instructing  Margaret  how  to  handle 
an  oar. 

"It  will  never  go  the  way  you  want  it  to,"  Mar- 
garet protested,  making  an  ineffectual  dab  at  the 
water. 

"When  it  does  you  will  know  the  bliss  I  Get  a 
little  below  the  surface,  and  have  faith  in  yourself." 


290  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

And  that  was  the  day  that  Priscilla  caught  a  new 
light  on  Margaret's  character.  They  landed  at  a 
tiny  village  across  the  lake  and  wandered  about, 
Margaret  talking  easily  to  the  people  in  their  own 
tongue,  Priscilla  straining  to  follow  by  watching 
faces  and  gestures.  While  they  stood  so,  discussing 
the  price  of  some  corals,  a  little  child  came  close  to 
them  and  slipped  a  deliciously  dimpled,  but  very 
dirty  little  hand  in  Margaret's.  At  the  touch  the 
girl  started,  turned  first  crimson  and  then  pale, 
and  looked  down.  Suddenly  her  eyes  deepened  and 
glowed. 

"The  darling!"  she  whispered,  and  bent  to  catch 
what  the  child  was  saying.  Presently  she  looked  up, 
tears  dimming  her  eyes,  and  said  to  Priscilla,  "She 
says  a  new  baby  came  to  their  house  last  night. 
She  wanted  to  tell  —  me!" 

"And  ten  already  have  been  there,"  broke  in  a 
brown-faced  native  woman. 

"But  she  is  glad,  and  she  wanted  me  to  know! 
Come,  my  sweet,  tell  me  more  about  the  baby,  and 
then  we  will 'go  and  see  it." 

They  sat  down  under  a  clump  of  trees,  and  the 
dirty  little  maid  nestled  close  to  Margaret,  while 
with  uplifted  head  and  unabashed  confidence  she 
told  of  the  mystery. 

Priscilla  watched  Margaret  Moffatt's  face.  She 
was  almost  awed  by  the  change  that  had  come  over 
it.  The  aloofness  and  pride  which  often  marked 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   291 

it  had  disappeared  as  if  by  magic;  the  tenderness, 
passionate  in  its  intentness,  cast  upon  the  little 
child,  moved  her  to  wonder  and  admiration.  Later 
they  went  to  the  poor  hovel  and  bent  beside  the 
humble  bed  on  which  the  mother  and  child  lay. 
Then  it  was  that  Priscilla  played  her  part  and  made 
comfortable  and  grateful  the  overburdened  creature, 
worn  and  weak  from  suffering. 

"  'Twas  the  good  God  who  sent  you,"  murmured 
she. 

"  'Twas  your  little  maid,"  smiled  Margaret,  tuck- 
ing a  roll  of  bills  under  the  hard,  lumpy  pillow. 
"Take  time  to  love  the  babies  —  leave  other  things 
—  but  love  them  and  enjoy  them." 

"Yes,  my  lady." 

On  the  way  back  in  the  boat  Margaret  was  very 
silent  for  a  time  as  she  watched  Priscilla  row;  finally 
she  said: 

"Did  it  surprise  you  —  my  show  of  feeling  for  the 
-the  child?" 

"It  was  very  beautiful.  I  did  not  know  you  cared 
so  much  for  children,  and  this  one  was  so  —  dirty." 

"But  so  real!  You  see  I  have  never  had  real 
children  in  my  life.  The  kinds  passed  out  to  nice 
girls  like  me  were  sad  travesties.  Since  I  saw  the 
darling  of  to-day  I've  been  wondering  —  do  not 
laugh,  Priscilla  —  but  I've  been  wondering  what 
poor,  cheated  little  morsel  of  humanity,  in  the  unreal 
world,  would  find  herself  in  that  eleventh  miracle  of 


292   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

the  wretched  hovel?  And  what  an  art  yours  is,  dear 
Priscilla!  How  you  soothed  away  the  suffering  by 
your  touch.  I  loved  you  better  as  I  realized  how 
that  training  of  yours  knows  neither  high  nor  low 
when  it  seeks  to  heal." 

Priscilla  thought  of  the  operation  on  Margaret 
Moffatt's  father,  and  her  quick  colour  rose. 

"And  I  loved  you  better  when  I  saw  how  your 
humanity  knows  neither  high  nor  low  —  just  love!" 

"Only  toward  little  children.  I  cannot  explain 
it,  but  when  I  touch  the  babies,  their  littleness  and 
helplessness  make  me  weak  and  trembling  before  — 
well,  before  the  strength  comes  in  a  mighty  wave. 
There  is  a  physical  sensation,  a  thrill,  that  comes 
with  the  first  contact,  and  when  they  trust  me,  as 
that  darling  did  this  morning,  I  feel  as  if —  God  had 
singled  me  out!  Only  lately  have  I  begun  to  under- 
stand what  this  means  in  me.  It  is  one  reason  why 
I  came  away.  I  had  to  think  it  out.  I  suppose" 
—  she  paused  and  looked  steadily  at  Priscilla  —  "1 
suppose  the  maternal  has  always  been  a  master 
passion  in  me,  and  I've  rebelled  at  being  an  only 
child;  at  having  no  children  but  the  —  specialized 
kind.  I  have  been  hungry  for  so  many  things  I  am 
realizing  now." 

"In  my  training  I  have  seen  —  what  you  mean. 
All  sorts  drift  in  —  to  pay  the  price  of  love  or  the 
penalty  of  passion,  as  Doctor  Ledyard  used  to 
express  it;  but"  —  and  Priscilla's  eyes  grew  darker 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   293 

—  "I  used  to  find  —  a  nurse  gets  so  much  closer, 
you  know,  than  a  doctor  can  —  I  found  that  some- 
times it  was  the  penalty  of  love  and  the  price  of 
passion.  Those  sad  young  creatures,  with  only 
blind  instinct  to  uphold  them,  were  so  —  divinely 
human,  and  paid  so  superbly.  When  it  comes  to 
the  hour  of  a  life  for  a  life,  one  thing  alone 
matters,  I  am  afraid,  and  it  is  the  thing  you  mean, 
Margaret." 

"Yes.  And  what  a  horrible  puzzle  it  all  is.  The 
thing  I  mean  should  be  always  there  —  always. 
The  world's  wrong  when  it  is  not." 

Suddenly  Priscilla,  sending  the  light  boat  forward 
by  the  impulse  of  her  last  stroke,  said,  as  if  it  were 
quite  in  line  with  all  that  had  gone  before: 

"There's  Doctor  Travers  on  the  wharf!" 

He  heard  her,  and  called  back: 

"Quite  unintentionally,  I  assure  you.  I  was  wait- 
ing for  the  boat  to  take  me  across.  I've  been  wan- 
dering about,  sleeping  where  I  could.  I  simply  find 
myself —  here!" 

At  this  both  girls  laughed  merrily. 

"This  is  the  place  of  Found  Personalities,"  Mar- 
garet Moffatt  said,  jumping  lightly  to  the  wharf. 
"Perhaps  you'll  come  to  the  inn  and  have  luncheon 
with  us  —  that  is,  if  you  are  sure  Doctor  Ledyard 
did  not  send  you  here  to  spy  on  me." 

"I  haven't  seen  him  since  I  left  America.  My 
mother  is  with  me;  she's  in  a  crack  of  the  hills  in 


294  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Italy.  She  wanted  to  be  alone.  Doctor  Ledyard 
will  join  us  later." 

"Then  come  to  the  house.  They  serve  meals  on 
a  dangerously  poised  balcony  over  the  lake;  we  curb 
our  appetites  for  fear  our  weight  may  be  the  one 
thing  the  structure  cannot  stand.  Our  old  house- 
keeper waits  upon  us,  but  is  in  no  wise  responsible  for 
the  food  which  is  often  very  bad  and  lacking  in 
nourishment." 

"You  seem  to  thrive  on  it."  Travers  looked  at 
the  two  before  him.  "I  wonder  just  what  it  is  this 
air  and  place  have  done  to  you?" 

"Tell  him,  Priscilla." 

"Oh,  like  you,  Doctor  Travers,  we  simply  found 
ourselves  —  here!  That's  all." 

Travers  did  not  leave  the  inn  that  night,  nor  for 
many  days  thereafter. 

"Doctor  Ledyard  will  join  my  mother  and  me 
early  in  August,"  he  explained;  "until  then  I'm  a 
floating  proposition.  I  wish  you'd  let  me  stay  on  a 
while,  Miss  Moffatt,  right  here.  I  want  to  analyze 
the  food,  it  puzzles  me.  Why  just  this  kind  of  con- 
glomeration should  achieve  such  results  is  interest- 
ing. I've  gained  five  pounds  in  six  days." 

"And  lost  ten  years,"  Margaret  broke  in.  "I 
never  thought  of  you  as  young,  Doctor  Travers; 
professional  men  never  do  seem  youthful;  but  here 
you're  rather  a  good  sort." 

And  Travers  remained,  much  to  the  delight  of  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    295 

old  housekeeper,  who,  with  a  nurse  and  a  doctor  in 
command,  cast  all  responsibility  aside. 

"Young  Miss  looks  well,"  she  confided  to  the 
proprietor's  wife,  who,  fortunately,  could  understand 
a  word  or  so  of  English;  "but  folks  is  like  weather: 
the  fairer  they  seem,  the  nearer  a  storm.  When  a 
day  or  a  person  looks  uncommonly  fair  —  a  weather 
breeder,  says  I,  and  generally,  nine  times  out  of  ten, 
I'm  right.  My  young  lady  is  too  changed  to  be  com- 
fortable. It's  either  a  breaking  up,  or "  But 

here  a  shout  for  "Mousey,"  silenced  further  prophecy. 

The  days  ran  along  without  cloud  or  shadow. 
Quite  naturally,  perhaps,  Priscilla  began  to  think 
that  a  drama  of  life  was  being  enacted  in  the  quiet, 
detached  village.  They  three  were  always  together, 
always  enjoying  the  same  things,  but  certainly  no 
man,  so  she  thought,  could  be  with  Margaret  Moffatt 
long  without  falling  at  her  feet.  Gradually  to  Pris- 
cilla Glenn  this  girl  stood  for  all  that  was  fine  and 
perfect.  In  her  she  saw  all  women  as  women  should 
be.  With  the  adoration  she  was  so  ready  to  give 
to  that  which  appealed  to  her,  Priscilla  lavished  the 
wealth  of  her  affection  upon  Margaret  MofFatt. 
Surely  it  was  because  of  Margaret  that  Doctor 
Travers  stayed  on,  and  became  the  life  of  the  party. 
To  be  sure  he  was  tact  itself  in  making  Priscilla 
feel  at  ease;  but  that  only  confirmed  her  in  her  belief 
that  he  wanted  to  please  Margaret  to  the  utter- 
most. Often  Priscilla  recalled,  with  keener  appre- 


296   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

elation,  John  BoswelPs  description  of  Anton  Far- 
well's  conception  of  friendship.  In  like  manner 
Margaret  Moffatt  claimed  for  her  companion  all 
that  justly  belonged  to  herself.  Dispassionately, 
vicariously,  Priscilla  learned  to  know  and  admire  the 
man  who  undoubtedly  in  time  would  win  her  one 
friend.  It  was  all  beautiful  and  natural,  and  in  the 
lovely  detachment  it  grew  and  grew.  The  long  walks 
and  drives,  the  rows  upon  the  lake  by  sunlight  and 
moonlight,  all  conspired  to  perfect  the  comradeship. 
They  read  together,  sang  together  —  very  poorly 
to  be  sure  —  and  once,  just  to  vary  the  charm,  they 
travelled  to  a  nearby  town  and  danced  at  a  village 
fete.  An  odd  thing  happened  there.  Owing  to 
high  spirits  and  a  sense  of  unconventionality,  they 
entered  into  the  sports  with  abandon.  Travers 
even  begged  a  reel  with  a  pretty  Swiss  maiden,  and 
led  her  proudly  away,  much  to  Margaret's  and  Pris- 
cilia's  delight.  Later,  the  men  and  women  of  the 
place  came  forward,  and,  entering  a  little  ring  formed 
by  admiring  friends,  performed,  separately,  the  na- 
tive dances. 

Travers  watched  Priscilla  with  a  puzzled  look  in 
his  eyes.  She  trembled  with  excitement;  seemed 
hypnotized  by  the  exhibition,  much  of  which  was 
delightfully  graceful  and  picturesque.  Then,  sud- 
denly, to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  she  took  advan- 
tage of  a  moment's  pause  and  ran  into  the  ring. 

"Whatever  possesses  her?"  whispered   Margaret 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    297 

to  Travers;  "she  looks  bewitched.  See!  she  is  — 
dancing!" 

Travers  watched  the  tall,  slim  figure  in  the  thin 
white  gown  over  which  a  light  scarf,  of  transparent 
crimson,  floated  as  the  evening  breeze  and  the  girl's 
motions  freed  it.  At  first  Priscilla  took  her  steps 
falteringly,  her  head  bent  as  if  trying  to  recall  the 
measure  and  rhythm;  then  with  more  confidence  she 
swung  into  the  lovely  pose  and  action.  With  up- 
lifted eyes  and  smiling  lips,  seeming  to  see  something 
hidden  from  others,  she  bent  and  glided,  curtesied 
and  tripped,  this  way  and  that. 

The  lookers-on  were  wild  with  delight.  The  beauty 
of  the  thing  itself,  the  willingness  of  the  foreigners 
to  join  in  the  sport,  aroused  the  temperamental 
enthusiasm,  and  the  clapping  and  cheering  filled 
the  hall  with  noise.  Suddenly  the  musicians  dropped 
their  instruments.  They  were  but  human,  and,  since 
they  could  not  keep  in  time  with  this  new  and  amaz- 
ing dance,  they  drew  near  to  admire. 

"Play!"  pleaded  Priscilla,  past  heeding  the  sen- 
sation she  was  creating.  "The  best  is  yet  to 
come!" 

Carried  out  of  himself,  entering  now  wholly  into 
the  adventure,  Travers  caught  up  a  violin  near  him 
and  sent  the  bow  over  the  strings  with  a  master 
touch.  He  hardly  knew  what  he  played ;  he  was  him- 
self, carried  away  on  a  wave  of  enchantment. 

"Ah!" 


298   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

The  word  escaped  Priscilla  like  a  cry  of  glad  re~ 
sponse. 

"Now!" 

They  two,  the  musician  and  the  dancer,  seemed 
alone  in  the  open  space.  The  flashing  eyes,  the 
cheering  voices,  the  clapping  hands,  even  Margaret 
Moffatt,  pale,  puzzled,  yet  charmed,  were  obliter- 
ated. It  was  spring  time  in  the  Place  Beyond  the 
Winds,  and  the  dance  of  adoration  was  in  full  swing, 
while  the  old  tune,  never  out  of  time  with  the  grace- 
ful, whirling  form,  played  on  and  on.  And  then  - 
the  ring  melted  away,  the  lights  grew  dim,  and  Pris- 
cilla stood  still. 

"I'm  —  I'm  tired,"  faltered  she.  A  hand  was 
laid  upon  her  arm,  some  one  guided  her  out  of  the 
heated,  breathless  room;  they  were  alone,  she  and 
he,  under  wide-spreading  trees,  and  a  particularly 
lovely  star  was  pulsing  overhead. 

"You  are  crying!"  Travers's  voice  was  low  and 
tense.  "Why?" 

"It  —  it  was  the  music!  It  was  like  something 
I  had  heard,  and  —  and  I  was  so  tired.  I  was  very 
foolish.  Can  you,  can  Margaret,  forgive  me?" 

"Forgive  you?  Why,  you  were  —  I  dare  not  tell 
you  what  you  were !  Here,  sit  down.  Do  not  tremble 
so!  Tell  me,  where  did  you  learn  to  dance  as  you 
do?" 

Priscilla  had  dropped  upon  the  rough  rustic  seat; 
she  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  hand  that  rested  upon 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    299 

her  clasped  ones  under  the  thin  scarf.  She  no  longer 
cried,  but  the  tears  shone  on  her  long  lashes. 

"I  —  I  never  learned.  It  —  it  is  I,  myself.  I 
thought  I  had  grown  into  something  else,  but  —  I 
shall  always  be  the  same  —  when  I  let  myself  go. " 

"Let  yourself  go?  Good  heavens!  Why  not  let 
yourself  go  —  forever  ? "  Travers's  voice  shook.  "  You 
have  brought  joy  and  youth  to  us  all  —  to  me,  who 
never  had  youth.  What  —  who  are  you?"  he 
laughed  boyishly.  She  sat  rigidly  erect  and  turned 
her  sad  eyes  upon  him. 

"I'm  Priscilla  Glynn  —  a  nurse!  And  you?  Oh! 
you  are  Doctor  Travers!  Can  you  not  see  my  beau- 
tiful, happy,  happy  life  is  ended  —  must  end?  Mar- 
garet, you,  everything  this  joyous  summer  has  made 
me  —  forget.  Soon  I  am  going  back  —  where  there 
is  no  dancing!" 

"And  —  cease  to  be  yourself?" 

"Yes.  But  I  shall  always  remember.  Not  many 
have  had  the  wonderful  glimpse  I  have  had  —  not 
many." 

"I  —  I  will  not  let  you  go  back!  You  belong  in 
the  light;  in  love  and  the  giving  of  love.  You  have 
given  me  a  glimpse  of  myself — as  I  should  be.  I 
have  stayed  in  this  magic  place  without  a  past  and 
a  future  —  for  your  sake !  I  see  it  now.  I  love " 

"Oh!  please,  please  stop.  We  are  both  mad,  and 
when  to-morrow  comes  and  the  day  after,  and  the 
day  after  that,  we  will  both  be  sorry,  and,  oh!  I 


300  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

want  all  my  life  to  —  to  —  be  glad  because  of  this 
night." 

"You  shall  —  remember  it  —  all  your  life  as  — • 
your  happiest  night,  if  I  can  make  it  so!" 

His  face  was  bent  close  to  hers.  For  the  first 
time  Travers  was  overpowered  by  the  charm  of 
woman,  and  all  the  pent  passion  and  love  of  his  life 
broke  bonds  like  a  wild,  primeval  thing  that  educa- 
tion and  conventions  had  never  touched. 

"I  —  I  want  you!  I  want  you  without  knowing 
any  more  than  if  you  and  I  had  been  born  anew  in 
this  wonderful  life.  Look  at  me!  You  believe  I 
can  offer  you  —  the  one  perfect  gift  a  man  should 
offer  a  woman?" 

She  looked  long  and  tenderly  in  his  eyes.  She 
was  —  going  to  leave  him;  she  could  afford  the  truth. 
She  was  brave  now. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered. 

"And  I  know  you  to  be  —  what  I  want.  Isn't 
that  enough?  Can  we  not  trust  each  —  for  the 
rest?" 

"Yes,  if  the  white  hills  could  shut  us  forever  from 
the  other  things." 

"Other  things?" 

"Yes,  the  things  of  to-morrow.  Duty,  the  de- 
mands that  lie  —  over  the  Alps." 

"I  —  renounce  them  all!" 

"But  they  will  not  renounce  us!" 

Travers  felt  her  slipping  from  him.     A  man  whose 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   301 

youth  has  been  denied,  as  his  had,  is  a  puppet  in 
Fate's  hands  when  youth  makes  its  claims. 

"I —  mean  to  have  you!  Do  you  hear  me?  I 
mean  to  have  you." 

And  just  then  Margaret  Moffatt  drew  near. 
Calmly,  smilingly,  she  came  like  one  playing  her  part 
in  a  perfectly  arranged  drama. 

"You  are  here?  Ready  for  home?  Wasn't  it 
sublime  and  exactly  as  it  should  be?  We  are  so  nice 
and  friendly  with  our  real  selves." 

There  was  no  surprise;  no  suggestion  of  disapproval. 
The  world  in  which  they  were  all  playing  could  have 
only  direct  and  simple  processes.  But,  having  lived 
in  a  past  world  where  her  perceptions  had  been 
made  keen  and  vital,  Margaret  Moffatt  understood 
what  she  saw.  She  had  noticed  every  letting  down 
and  abandonment  of  Travers  since  he  had  joined 
them.  She  was  too  wise  not  to  know  the  effect  of 
such  a  woman  as  Priscilla  upon  such  a  man;  such 
a  denied  and  almost  puritanical  man  as  Travers. 
She  knew  his  story  from  her  father.  An  artistic 
triumph  was  hers  that  night.  The  splendid  elements 
of  primitive  justice  had  been  set  in  motion,  and  al- 
most gleefully  she  wondered  what  they  would  do  with 
Richard  Travers  and  Priscilla  Glynn. 

For  herself?  Well,  she  had  put  herself  to  the 
test  and  had  come  out  clear-visioned  and  glad  to  a 
point  of  dangerous  excitement.  Only  two  or  three 
mighty  things  mattered,  if  one  were  to  gain  in  the 


302   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

marvellous  game.  She  meant  to  hold  to  them  and 
let  the  rest  go! 

But  Travers  had  not  passed  through  Ledyard's 
school  and  come  out  untouched.  After  leaving 
Priscilla,  silent  and  white,  he  had  gone  to  his  room 
and  flung  himself  down  upon  a  low  couch  by  the 
window.  Then  his  old  self  took  him  in  hand  while 
he  stubbornly  resisted  every  attack  that  reason,  as 
trained  by  Ledyard,  made  upon  him. 

"Think  of  —  your  mother!  What  has  she  not 
done  and  suffered  that  you  might  stand  before  the 
world  —  a  free  man?  And  your  profession;  your 
future!  They  are  all  your  mother  holds  to  for  her 
peace  and  joy.  And  I?  Well,  I  do  not  claim  any- 
thing for  myself;  but  you  know  the  game  as  well  as 
I.  If  you  toss  to  the  winds  all  that  has  been  gained 
for  you,  professionally  and  socially,  you  are  done 
for!  Your  renunciation  and  restraint,  what  have 
they  amounted  to,  unless  you  accept  them  as  step- 
ping-stones and  go  —  on?" 

And  then  Travers  clenched  his  hands  and  had  his 
say. 

In  that  moment  his  own  mother  rose  clear  and 
radiant  beside  him  and  made  her  appeal.  She 
pleaded  for  justice,  but  she  showed  mercy.  He  must 
not  forget  or  forego  anything  that  had  been  gained 
for  him;  but  he  was  her  child,  the  child  of  her  love 
—  unasking,  unfettered  love  —  and  the  passion  that 
was  throbbing  in  him  was  pure  and  instinctive;  he 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    303 

must  not  deny  it  or  the  rest  would  be  shucks!  Non- 
essentials  must  not  hamper  him.  Alone,  unsought, 
a  strange  and  compelling  force  had  made  him  cap- 
tive. All  that  others,  and  himself,  had  achieved  for 
him  must  make  holy  this  simple  but  all-powerful 
desire. 

Then  she  faded,  that  poor,  little,  half-forgotten 
mother!  But  she  left,  like  the  fragrance  of  rare 
flowers  that  had  been  taken  from  the  dim,  moon- 
lighted room,  a  memory  of  happiness  and  sweetness 
and  content. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BY  ALL  the  deductions  of  experience  the 
three  people  in  the  little  inn  should  have,  in 
the  light  of  the  morning  after,  been  reduced 
to  common  sense;  but  the  day  laughed  common 
sense  to  scorn  and  fanned  the  fires  of  the  previous 
evening  to  bright  flame. 

"I  must  write  a  letter,"  announced  Margaret  after 
breakfast,  "a  letter  so  momentous  that  it  will  take 
me  —  an  hour  and  a  half!  But  my  plans  and  yours 
are  all  laid.  Now,  Priscilla,  none  of  your  cap  and 
apron  look.  You'll  do  exactly  what  I  tell  you  to  do; 
and  you,  too,  Doctor  Travers." 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  intention  of  disobeying. 
And  as  for  my  cap  and  apron,  I've  burned  them!" 
Priscilla  tossed  her  head. 

Travers  looked  at  her,  and  her  loveliness  seemed 
enhanced  in  her  trim  white  linen  gown  with  its  broad 
collar  of  Irish  lace.  How  magnificent  her  throat 
was!  What  a  perfect  woman  she  was!  And  what 
hair! 

"There  is  a  train  that  leaves  here  at  nine-thirty, 
a  mad  little  ramshackle  train  that  goes  to  The 
Ghost  and  back  in  an  hour  and  a  half.  We've  all 

304 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   305 

yearned  to  climb  The  Ghost,  or  as  much  of  it  as 
we  dared.  Now  you  two,  with  Mousey  and  a  ser- 
vant, are  to  go  on  the  nine-thirty.  I'll  finish  my 
destruction  of  the  social  system  and  catch  the  eleven 
o'clock  train.  We'll  have  picnic  lunch.  They  say 
there's  a  dreadful  cavern  at  the  base  of  The  Ghost 
that  is  corking  for  picnics,  and  then  we'll  explore 
until  we  have  to  return.  Any  objections?" 

There  were  none. 

"Very  well!  It's  nine  now!  Priscilla,  wear  the 
roughest,  heaviest  things  you've  got.  You  always 
have  your  hours  of  remorse  too  late.  The  Ghost  will 
chill  your  blood." 

When  the  little  party  reached  the  small  station 
at  the  mountain  foot  the  servants  started  at  once 
to  the  cavern  to  build  a  fire  and  prepare  for  the 
luncheon. 

"Let  us  walk  a  bit  up  the  trail,"  suggested  Travers. 
"I  always  feel  like  the  Englishman  who  said  the 
views  halfway  up  a  mountain  are  more  enjoyable 
than  those  on  top.  At  least,  you  have  life  enough 
left  to  enjoy  them.  This  particular  trail  is  a  mighty 
wicked  one.  There  ought  to  be  guides,  for  safety. 
I  know  the  way  perfectly;  my  mother  and  I  once 
stayed  here  some  years  ago.  She  meant  to  come 
here  this  summer  early,  but  has  decided  to  wait 
until  Doctor  Ledyard  joins  us.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
taking  the  cream  off  the  thing.  Will  you  trust  me 
—  Priscilla?" 


3o6  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

There  was  challenge  and  command  in  the  use  of 
her  name. 

"Absolutely." 

"Come,  then!  I  want  you  to  go  first.  The  rise 
is  easy  for  a  half-mile  or  so.  I  can  better  watch 
out  for  you  and  catch  you  —  if  you  make  a  misstep. 
The  stones  are  loose  and  mischievous;  the  path  is 
ridiculously  near  the  edge  of  things.  If  one  should 
—  now  do  not  get  nervous,  but  if  you  should  go 
over,  just  clutch  the  bushes,  the  sturdy  little  clumps, 
and  nothing  can  really  happen." 

"I  never  get  nervous  in  high  places.  Being  used 
to  dead  levels,  I  have  the  courage  of  the  ignorant. 
Doesn't  the  air  make  one " 

"Heady?" 

"Yes.  I  suppose  that  is  it.  Heady  and  —  light- 
hearted." 

Travers  had  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  form  ahead  in 
its  dark  blue  mountain  skirt  and  corduroy  waist. 

"I  wish  you  would  take  off  your  hat,"  he  said. 

Priscilla  obeyed. 

"Thank  you!     Will  you  let  me  —  love  you?" 

He  noticed  a  tremor  run  the  length  of  her  body. 

"Is  —  that  in  my  giving?"  Priscilla  meant  to 
play  just  a  little  longer,  only  a  little,  and  then  she 
must  make  him  see  that  because  this  sudden  and 
great  thing  had  come  to  them  both,  they  must  prove 
themselves  worthy  of  it  by  unselfish  recognition  of 
deep  truths. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    307 

"No.  But  I  would  like  to  have  you  say  —  yes! 
I  meant  all  I  said  last  evening;  you  said  nothing.  I 
mean  to  have  you,  because  I  love  you;  because  I 
know  you  love  me,  and  because  nothing  else  matters. 
It's  only  fair  to  warn  you.  You  do  love  me?" 

"Is  it  love  —  when  everything  else  is  swept  aside?" 

"Yes." 

"All  but  the  longing  —  for  the  best?" 

"Yes.     That  is  love." 

"Then,  I  love  you." 

"On  ahead  there  is  a  tiny  bluff,  do  not  speak  again 
until  we  reach  it.  A  strange  and  wonderful  thing 
came  to  me  there  once  —  years  ago.  I  want  to 
tell  you  about  it,  my  beloved!" 

Travers  watched  her  as  he  spoke.  Again  that 
tremor  ran  through  Priscilla. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  they  stopped,  at  Travers's 
word.  They  had  come,  silently,  up  the  trail,  only 
their  footsteps  and  their  quicker  breathing  break- 
ing the  awesome  stillness.  Their  separate  thoughts 
were  bringing  them  dangerously  nearer  together, 
trampling  caution,  warning,  and  purpose  beneath 
their  young  yearning  for  the  vital  meaning  of  life. 
When  they  faced  each  other  at  last  it  was  as  if  they 
had  indeed  been  transfigured. 

"Mine!"  whispered  Travers,  stretching  out  his 
hands.  "You  are  mine!  Do  not  struggle.'* 

Priscilla  put  her  hands  in  his,  but  did  not 
speak. 


308   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS" 

"And  now  let  us  sit  here.  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand. You  will  try  to  understand?" 

"Yes." 

All  her  life  Priscilla  was  to  look  back  on  that  mo- 
ment as  the  first  perfect  one  of  her  life.  She  felt  no 
shame  in  taking  it.  It  belonged  to  her,  and  she 
meant  to  prove  herself  to  him. 

"I  feel  as  if  there  were  a  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth,  Priscilla,  and  that  you  and  I  had  just  been 
created  —  the  first  man,  the  first  woman.  Dear 
heart,  rest  your  head,  so,  against  my  knee."  He 
was  sitting  above  her.  "Your  hair  holds  all  the 
glory  of  the  sunlight,  and  how  white  and  warm  your 
throat  is!"  His  fingers  touched  it  reverently. 
"Let  us  cling  to  this  one  hour  that  has  given  us 
to  each  other.  Are  you  happy?" 

"It  means  —  something  more  than  that  —  this 

moment "  Priscilla  spoke  as  if  held  by  a 

dream. 

"You  are  —  content?" 

"Yes.  That  is  it.  I  am  —  content.  I  shall 
never  ask  for  anything  more,  anything  better.  I 
have  everything  —  the  world  and  —  and  God,  has 
to  give." 

"My  darling!  Now  let  me  tell  you.  Years  ago 
I  came  here  after  a  hard  struggle  for  health.  I  had 
never  had  childhood  or  boyhood,  in  the  real  sense; 
but  I  was  well  at  last!  I  saw  that  I  was  going  to 
have  a  man's  life,  with  all  that  that  means,  and  for 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    309 

months  the  emotions  and  cravings,  that  generally 
go  to  the  years  of  making  a  child  and  boy,  had  been 
crowding  and  pushing  me  to  a  sense  of  having  been 
defrauded,  and  I  meant  to  have  my  turn  at  last:  my 
joy  and  pleasure.  It  seemed  just  and  right  to  me 
that  I  should  taste  and  revel  in  all  that  I  had  been 
deprived  of.  I  had  even  been  deprived  of  the  long- 
ing, had  not  even  had  the  glory  of  conquest.  I  had 
been  such  a  meaningless  creature,  I  thought  I  could 
afford  even  to  be  selfish.  I  shrank  from  being 
different  —  I  had  been  forced  to  in  the  past  —  but 
I  meant  to  make  up  for  lost  time  and  take  my  place 
among  my  fellows. 

"One  morning,  just  such  a  morning  as  this,  I 
found  myself  alone  —  here!  Then  I  had  it  out 
with  myself.  More  distinctly  than  anything  had 
ever  come  to  me  before  I  realized  that  life  meant 
one  thing,  and  one  thing  only:  the  biggest  fight  or 
the  meanest  defeat!  I  knew  that  every  passion 
that  burned  and  flayed  me  was  a  warhorse  that, 
if  controlled,  would  carry  me  safely  through  the 
battle;  if  succumbed  to,  would  trample  me  under 
its  relentless  feet.  This  I  knew  with  my  brain,  while 
tradition,  inclination,  and  longing  called  me  —  fool! 
Well,  I  was  given  strength  to  follow  my  head;  but 
every  year  has  been  a  struggle.  I  found  that  to  be 
different  meant  contempt  often,  misunderstanding 
always.  Sometimes  it  has  not  seemed  worth  while; 
the  victories  were  so  lonely  and  useless;  but  I  thanked 


3io   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

God  last  night,  when  I  saw  your  face  as  you  danced, 
that  I  could  offer  you  a  love  that  need  not  make  the 
pitiful  plea  for  mercy  from  your  love.  Through 
temptation  and  the  long  fight  it  has  always  seemed 
to  me  that  no  man  should  ask  for  pure  love  without 
the  equivalent  to  offer  in  return. 

"Can  you  understand  when  I  say  that  this  battle 
of  mine  has  brought  me  closer  to  men  and  women, 
with  no  bitterness  in  my  heart;  has  left  me  free,  not 
to  despise  them,  but  to  help  them?" 

"Yes,  oh,  yes;  all  my  life  I  could  understand  those 
who  —  fight.  I,  too,  have  fought  and  fought." 

Travers's  hand  was  pressing  upward  the  head 
against  his  knee  so  that  he  could  look  in  the  up- 
lifted eyes. 

"My  love!  as  free  man  and  woman,  let  us  give 
ourselves  to  each  other!" 

Then  he  bent  and  kissed  the  smiling  mouth. 

"Speak  to  me,  my  —  wife." 

"Yes!  But  let  me  think,  dear  heart.  I  must 
speak;  the  half  has  only  been  told."  She  moved  a 
bit  away  from  him.  Travers  let  her  go  with  no  fear. 

"Now,  strange  little  thing,  since  you  cannot  speak 
in  my  arms,  have  your  will!"  he  whispered. 

"There  is  a  to-morrow."  The  even  voice  had  no 
strain  of  pain  or  sorrow  in  it.  "And  we  must  not 
forget  that.  We  have  played  and  played  until 
we  have  made  ourselves  believe  —  such  wonderful 
things;  but  to-morrow  —  we  will  wake  up  and  be 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   311 

what  we  have  been  made!  I  have  heard,  oh!  so 
many  people,  tell  of  your  future,  your  honours.  I 
have  seen  Doctor  Ledyard's  eyes  upon  you;  I  know 
you  have  a  mother  who  adores  you.  I  do  not  know 
your  world;  I  could  not  touch  your  place  but  to  mar 
it,  and,  because  I  love  you  so  —  oh!  so  absolutely, 
and  because  I  would  want,  and  must  have,  glory  in 
my  own  love  —  we  must  stop  playing!  We  have 
not"  —  and  now  the  eyes  dimmed  —  "we  have  not 
played  for  keeps!" 

"You  poor,  little  girl!  How  you  use  the  old, 
foolish  arguments,  thinking  yourself — wise.  Do  you 
imagine  I  could  let  you  dim  the  sacred  thing  that 
has  come  to  us  —  by  such  idle  prating?  There  are 
only  you  and  I  and  —  the  future.  You  darling  child, 
come  here!" 

In  reaching  toward  her,  Travers's  foot  pressed  too 
heavily  against  the  stone  upon  which  she  sat;  it 
moved,  slipped,  and  Priscilla  escaped  his  clutch. 
Not  realizing  her  danger,  she  smiled  up  at  him  radi- 
antly. She  meant  what  she  had  said,  but  youth 
could  not  relinquish  its  rights  without  a  struggle,  and 
his  eyes  were  so  heavenly  kind. 

"My  God!     Clutch  the  bushes,  Priscilla!" 

"What  —  is  the  matter?"  But  with  the  question 
came  the  knowledge.  She  was  going  down,  down,  and 
every  effort  he  made  to  save  her  sent  her  farther 
along  the  awful  slope!  She  held  to  a  nearby  bush 
but  uprooted  it  by  the  force  with  which  she  gripped 


3i2   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

it.  Faster,  faster,  with  that  terrified  face  above 
her! 

"My  precious  one!    Try  again!   Do  not  be  afraid!" 

"No." 

And  then  they  both  heard  the  hoarse  whistle  of 
the  little  shuttle  train  nearing  The  Ghost,  with  Mar- 
garet Moffatt  on  board ! 

Travers  realized  the  new  danger.  Very  steep  was 
the  grade  of  the  mountain,  and  it  ended  on  —  the 
tracks! 

He  shut  his  eyes;  he  could  do  no  more.  Every 
move  he  made  imperilled  the  woman  he  would  give 
his  life  to  save.  The  only  comfort  he  knew  was  that 
he,  too,  was  losing,  losing.  They  would  be  together 
at  the  last. 

Priscilla  understood  also.  She  looked  up  and  saw 
him  close  his  eyes;  then  fear  fled,  as  it  does  when  the 
last  hope  takes  it.  It  would  soon  be  over  for  them, 
and  — nothing  in  all  the  world  could  separate  them. 
There  was  nothing  but  him  and  her!  He  had  seen 
that;  but  now  she  saw  it,  too.  Him  and  her!  him 
and  her! 

"I  —  love  you  so!"  she  whispered.  "I  am  not 
afraid.  I'm  sorry.  I  would  have  given  myself  to 
you!  I  would  indeed!" 

She  wanted  him  to  know.  He  opened  his  eyes 
and  smiled  a  twisted,  hideous  smile. 

"I  —  meant  —  to  have  you."  The  words  came  to 
her  faintly.  A  nearer  shriek  of  the  whistle,  and  a 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   313 

deafening  clang  of  the  bell !  Some  one  at  the  throttle 
of  the  engine  had  an  inspiration  and  sent  the  crazy 
thing  shooting  ahead. 

Then  it  was  past,  and  upon  the  tracks  over  which 
the  car  had  but  just  gone  lay  Priscilla  Glenn  quite 
unconscious! 

Travers  came  to  himself  at  once,  and  took  her 
head  on  his  knee  where  but  a  short  time  ago  it  had 
lain  so  happily. 

"You,  Priscilla!"  It  was  Margaret  Moffatt  who 
spoke.  The  train  had  stopped;  the  few  passengers 
had  come  back  to  see  what  had  happened. 

"  Yes ;  my  God !  Yes !  Miss  Moffatt,  will  you  see 
if  she  is  dead?  I  dare  not  trust  —  myself." 

It  was  late  that  night,  in  Priscilla's  room  at  the 
inn,  that  she  and  Margaret  had  their  talk. 

Priscilla  lay  upon  her  bed  weak  and  bruised,  but 
otherwise  safe.  Margaret  sat  beside  her,  her  hand 
in  Priscilla's. 

"Doctor  Travers  has  pulled  himself  together  at 
last,"  she  said.  "I  never  saw  a  strong  man  so  shat- 
tered. And  you,  dear,  you  are  sure  you  have  told  me 
the  truth  —  you  are  not  suffering?" 

"No,  only  a  little  dazed.  That's  natural  after 
looking  death  in  the  face  for  hours  and  hours  while 
everything  slipped  away  from  you  —  things  you 
had  always  thought  meant  something." 

"Yes,  poor  girl!" 


3H  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"And  they  —  meant  nothing.     They  never  do.'* 

"No.  You  found  that  at  death's  door;  I  found  it 
at  life's.  I  want  to  tell  you  something,  dear,  that 
will  make  you  forget  yourself — and  think  of  me. 
You  are  sure  you  cannot  sleep?" 

"I  do  not  want  to  sleep." 

"Priscilla,  I  have  given  myself  to  love!  You 
can  understand.  Travers  has  just  told  me  —  about 
him  and  you!" 

A  faint  colour  touched  the  face  on  the  pillow. 

"  It  was  the  telling  that  brought  him  around.  He's 
superb,  and  you're  a  daffy  little  goose,  Cilia.  Imag- 
ine a  man  like  Travers  letting  a  girl  like  you  slip 
through  his  fingers." 

"He  did!"  weakly  interrupted  Priscilla. 

"But  he  followed  you  right  down,  and  into  — 
hell!" 

"Into  life  and  joy,  you  mean,  Margaret  —  life!" 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  he  was  with  you.  It  is  mag- 
nificent to  see  a  man,  or  a  woman,  big  enough, 
brave  enough,  and  sensible  enough  to  sweep  the 
senseless  rubbish  of  life  aside,  and  get  each  other! 
Oh!  it's  life  as  God  meant  it.  Priscilla,  the  letter  I 
wrote  to-day  was  to  —  my  man.  He's  as  splendid  as 
yours.  I  told  you  once  how  I  —  I  loved  children. 
I  had  taken  that  love  for  granted  until  something 
happened.  A  friend  of  mine  married  —  one  of  the 
girls  my  people  thought  was  the  kind  for  me  to 
know.  She  didn't  understand  life  any  more  than  I 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   315 

aid',  she  just  took  one  of  the  men  who  wore  the  same 
label  she  did.  Her  child  came  —  a  year  after;  a 
horrible  little  creature  —  diseased;  dreadful  —  can 
you  understand?" 

"Yes"  —  Priscilla  had  turned  toward  the  girl  by 
her  side- — "yes,  I  know  what  you  mean.     I  have  been 


a  nurse.'* 


"That  was  the  first  time  things  we  should  have 
known — were  known  by  my  friend  and  me!" 
Margaret's  voice  was  low  and  hard. 

"She — -she  cursed  him,  her  husband  —  and  left 
him!  It  was  terrible !  I  was  frightened,  more  fright- 
ened than  I  had  ever  been.  Everything  seemed  tot- 
tering around  me.  I  thought  —  I  must  die;  I  dared 
trust  nothing.  Just  then  —  some  one  told  me  —  he 
loved  me;  and  I  —  I  had  loved  him.  But  I  was  more 
afraid  of  him  than  of  any  one  in  God's  world.  I 
thought  I  was  going  mad,  and  then  —  I  went  to 
Doctor  Ledyard  and  told  him  all  about  it.  I  just 
threw  my  whole  burden  of  doubt  and  ignorance  upon 
him  —  he  is  such  a  good  man!  Sometimes  I  weep 
when  I  think  of  him.  He  was  father,  friend,  and 
physician,  all  in  one.  He  understood.  He  told  me 
to  go  away;  he  got  you  for  me.  He  told  me  to  play 
like  a  little  girl,  with  only  the  real  and  beautiful 
things  of  life;  to  forget  the  worries,  and  he  would 
make  sure! 

"Priscilla,  he  has  made  sure!  My  love  is  safe. 
I  can  give  myself  to  my  love  and  let  it  have  its  way 


3i6   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

with  me,  and  in  the  beautiful  future,  our  future,  his 
and  mine,  little  children  cannot  —  curse  us  by  their 
suffering  and  deformity. 

"This  must  be  the  heritage  a  woman  should  be  able 
to  give  her  children,  or  she  has  no  right  to  her  own 
love.  God  has  been  so  good  to  me  —  he  has  not 
asked  for  sacrifice;  but"  -  here  she  spoke  fiercely  - 
"I  was  ready  to  sacrifice  my  love  —  for  I  had  seen 
my  friend's  baby! 

"I  had  never  known  God  before  as  I  know  him 
now.  He  came  to  me  with  love  and  faith  and  my 
glorious  life.  Before,  my  God  was  a  prayer-book 
God;  a  dead  thing  that  only  rustled  when  we  touched 
him;  and  now,  oh!  Cilia,  he  is  alive  and  breathing 
in  good  men  and  women,  in  little  children,  in  all  the 
beautiful,  real  things.  They  did  not  bury  my  God, 
or  yours,  long  ago;  they  only  set  him  free  for  us  to 
find  and  love  and  follow." 

They  clung  to  each  other  in  a  passion  of  reverence 
and  happiness,  and  then  kissed  each  other  good 
night. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MY  GIRL,"  said  Travers  a  week  later, 
" how  shall  it  be?  May  I  tell  every  one  how 
madly  happy  I  am?  May  I  take  you  to 
that  little  shrine  a  mile  up  the  mountain  yonder  and 
make  you  —  mine  —  and  then  show  them  all  why  I 
am  so  happy?  Or  — 

"Yes.  Or "  Priscilla  lay  quite  contentedly 

in  his  arms,  her  eyes  on  the  shining  outlines  of  The 
Ghost. 

"And  that  means,  my  sweet?" 

"That  we  should  keep  this  blessed  secret  jus*t  a 
little  longer  —  to  ourselves.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not 
bear  to  have  it  explained,  defended,  or  justified,  and 
all  that  must  follow,  my  very  dear  man,  when  the 
play  is  over  and  we  return  to  —  to  school.  I  shall  be 
glad  and  ready  to  do  all  this  a  little  later  on;  proud 
to  have  you  do  it  for  me,  and — we'll  face  the  music. 
It  is  going  to  be  music,  dear,  I  am  sure  of  that.  But 
some  very  stern  questions  will  be  asked  by  that  sweet 
mother  of  yours,  and  she  shall  have  her  answer. 
Then  Doctor  Ledyard,  with  all  the  prayer  gone  from 
his  eyes,  will  call  me  up  for  judgment  and  demand  to 
know  what  right  a  nurse,  even  a  white  nurse,  had  to 

317 


318   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

lay  hands  upon  a  young  physician  who  was  on  the 
road  to  glory!  It  will  be  hard  to  answer  him;  but 
never  mind!" 

"And  then,  dear  lady  of  mystery,  what  then?" 

"Why,  then  I'm  going  to  beckon  to  you  and  we'll 
dance ' 

"Dance,  my  darling?" 

"Yes,  dance  away  and  away  to  a  holy  place  I 
know,  and  then  I'm  going  to  tell  you  the  whole 
story  of  Priscilla 

But -at  that  moment  Margaret  Moffatt  came  upon 
the  scene.  The  miracle  of  love  had  transfigured  the 
girl.  She  looked,  as  Travers  had  said  to  Priscilla, 
like  the  All  Woman:  large,  fine,  and  noble,  with  un- 
ashamed surrender  in  her  splendid  eyes. 

"And  that  is  what  she  is!"  Priscilla  had  replied, 
"the  All  Woman.  I  could  die  for  her,  live  for  her, 
do  anything  for  her.  For  me,  she  is  the  first,  the 
one  woman,  in  all  the  world." 

"Young  devotee,  could  you,  would  you,  give  your 
—  love  up  for  her?"  Travers  had  asked,  and  then 
Priscilla  spoke  words  that  Travers  remembered  long 
afterward. 

"I  could  not  give  my  love  up  for  —  that  is  —  I, 
myself;  just  as  the  dance  is  —  just  as  my  soul  is  — 
but  I  could;  yes,  I  know  I  could  give  up  —  my  happi- 
ness for  her,  if  by  so  doing  I  could  spare  her  one 
shadow.  Her  glorious  nature  could  reach  where  mine 
never  could." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   319 

"Yours  reaches  to  me,  little  girl." 

" But  hers  —  oh!  my  dear  man,  hers  reaches  to  — 
the  world.  If  you  knew  her  as  I  know  her!" 

But  Margaret  was  whimsical  and  witchy  as  she 
came  upon  the  two  in  the  small  arbour  by  the  lake. 

"Folks,"  she  said,  "let  us  keep  our  nice  little  sur- 
prises to  ourselves  for  a  while,  like  miserly  creatures. 
My  dear  old  daddy-boy  is  fretting  and  fussing 
about  me,  'dreading  the  issue,'  as  he  told  Doctor 
Ledyard,  and  behold  —  I'm  going  to  do  exactly  what 
my  daddykins  desires!  And  you,  Doctor  Richard 
Travers,  you  are  wanted  by  your  lady  mother. 
Here's  a  telegram.  The  girl  in  the  office  always  tells 
what  is  in  a  telegram,  to  spare  shock.  And  Cilia, 
my  shining-headed  chum,  you  and  I  are  going  to 
scamper  about  a  bit  before  we  go  home.  I'd  be  a 
miserable  defaulter,  indeed,  if  I  did  not  give  you 
your  share  of  this  experience.  Oh!  I  know  you've 
snatched  bits  that  in  no  wise  were  included  in  the 
program,  but  we're  all  grafters.  I  want  to  play 
fair.  Will  you  flit  over  the  continent  with  me  and 
Mousey,  dear  little  —  pal?" 

And  three  days  later  they  began  their  trip,  while 
Travers  returned  to  Helen.  It  was  a  charming  trip 
the  girls  made,  but  their  hearts  were  elsewhere. 

In  October  they  were  in  New  York  again,  and  the 
inevitable  happened.  Margaret  was  returned  to 
her  world,  and,  for  the  moment,  was  absorbed. 
Priscilla  lost  sight  of  her,  though  she  heard  con- 


320  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

stantly  from  her  by  telephone  or  delicately  worded 
notes. 

A  sad  occurrence  kept  Richard  Travers  abroad. 
Helen  contracted  fever  and  for  weeks  lay  between 
life  and  death.  Doctor  Ledyard  waited  until  the 
danger  was  past,  and  then  left  the  two  together  in 
Paris,  while  Helen  recovered,  with  Travers  to  watch 
and  care  for  her. 

The  letters  that  came  to  Priscilla  were  all  that 
kept  her  eyes  shining  and  her  heart  singing. 

"I  shall  go  on  as  usual,"  she  wrote  to  Richard. 
"When  you  come,  then  we'll  make  the  wonderful 
announcement.  I  see  now  that  we  have  no  right  to 
our  secret  alone;  but  with  the  ocean  between  us,  it 
is  best." 

During  those  months  Priscilla  learned  to  know 
Helen  Travers  through  Travers's  letters.  Woman- 
like, she  read  between  the  lines  and  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Helen's  nobility  and  simple  sweetness.  Her  loved 
ones  were  so  sacred  to  her  that  no  personal  demands 
could  ever  cause  her  to  raise  objections.  Once  she 
was  sure  that  they  she  worshipped  wanted  anything 
for  their  true  happiness,  her  energies  were  bent  to 
that  end. 

"And  she  will  love  you,  my  girl;  will  learn  to  de- 
pend upon  you  as  I  do.  As  for  Doctor  Ledyard, 
when  he  is  cornered,  he  is  the  best  soul  that  ever 
drew  breath,  and  mother  can  bully  him  into  any- 
thing." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   321 

It  was  in  February  that  Priscilla  was  called  up  by 
Doctor  Hapgood,  a  man  of  high  repute. 

"Are  you  on  duty?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Any  immediate  engagement?" 

"None  until  March." 

"I  would  like  to  have  you  take  a  case  of  mine  that 
requires  tact  as  well  as  efficiency.  Can  you  take 
it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Report  then  at  60  West  Eighty-first  Street  this 
afternoon,  at  four." 

Priscilla  found  herself  promptly  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  waiting-room  of  a  palatial  bachelor  apartment, 
and  there  Doctor  Hapgood  joined  her. 

"Before  we  go  upstairs,"  he  said,  drawing  his 
chair  close  to  Priscilla's  and  lowering  his  voice,  "I 
wish  to  say  to  you  what,  doubtless,  there  is  no  real 
need  of  saying.  I  simply  emphasize  the  necessity. 
The  young  man  who  requires  your  services  is  Clyde 
Huntter.  This  means  nothing  to  you,  but  it  does 
to  many  others.  He  is  supposed  to  be  in  —  Ber- 
muda. You  understand?" 

"Yes,  Doctor  Hapgood." 

"The  case  is  a  particularly  tragic  one,  such  an  one 
as  you  may  encounter  later  on  in  your  career.  It 
demands  all  your  sympathy,  encouragement,  and 
patience.  Mr.  Huntter  is  as  fine  a  man,  as  upright 
a  one,  as  I  know,  his  ideals  and  —  and  present  life 


are  above  reproach.  He  is  paying  a  bitter  debt  for 
youthful  and  ignorant  folly.  I  believed  this  im- 
possible, but  so  it  is.  I  am  thankful  to  say,  how- 
ever, that  he  has  every  reason  to  hope  that  the 
future,  after  this,  is  secure.  I  have  chosen  you  to 
care  for  him,  because  I  know  your  ability;  have 
heard  of  your  powers  of  reticence  and  cheerfulness. 
I  depend  upon  you  absolutely." 

"Thank  you,  Doctor  Hapgood." 

Priscilla's  face  had  gone  deadly  white,  but  never 
having  heard  Huntter's  name  before,  she  was  im- 
personal in  her  feeling. 

"I  will  do  my  best." 

The  days  following  were  days  of  strain  and  torture 
to  Priscilla.  Her  patient  was  a  man  who  appealed 
to  her  strongly,  pathetically.  There  were  hours 
when  his  gloom  and  depression  would  almost  drag 
her  along  to  the  depths  into  which  he  sank;  then 
again  he  would  beg  her  to  pardon  him  for  his  brutal 
thoughtlessness. 

"Sit  there,  Miss  Glynn,"  he  said  one  day.  "The 
sunshine  is  rather  niggardly,  but  when  it  rests  on 
your  hair  —  it  lasts  longer." 

"Oh,  my  poor  hair!" 

"Poor?  It  looks  like  a  gold  mine."  Then:  "I 
wish  you  would  read  to  me.  No;  nothing  recent 
or  superficial.  Something  from  the  old,  cast-iron 
writers  who  knew  how  to  use  thumb  screws  and  rack. 
There's  something  wholesome  in  them;  something 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   323 

you  buck  up  against.  They  make  you  writhe  and 
groan,  but  they  leave  you  with  the  thought  that  — 
you've  lived  through  something." 

Again,  another  day,  after  a  bad  night: 

"I  think  you'd  better  go  into  the  next  room,  Miss 
Glynn,  and  take  a  nap.  I'd  feel  less  brutally  selfish 
if  I  could  see  your  eyes  calmer.  Besides,  being  shut 
away  here  from  all  I'm  dying  to  have  makes  an 
idiot  of  me.  If  you  stay  any  longer,  looking  at  me 
with  those  queer  eyes  of  yours,  I  may  break  down 
and  tell  you  all  about  it,  just  for  the  dangerous  joy 
of  easing  my  own  soul  by  dumping  a  load  on  yours. 
Good  God!  Miss  Glynn,  such  women  as  you  should 
not  be  nurses;  it  isn't  fair.  I'd  give  —  let  me  see  — 
well,  I'd  give  six  months  of  my  life  —  since  Hapgood 
says  I  stand  a  fair  chance  for  ninety  years  —  to  talk 
to  you,  man  to  woman,  and  get  your  point  of  view  — 
about  something.  There  are  moments,  after  a  bad 
night,  when  I  think  you  women  haven't  had  all  they 
say  you  should  have  had.  We  men  have  been  too 
blindly  sure  we  could  play  your  game  as  well  as  our 
own.  Run  now!  If  you  stay  another  minute  I'll 
regret  it,  and  so  will  you.'* 

"Shall  I  shake  your  pillow  before  I  go,  Mr.  Hunt- 
ter?" 

"Yes.  Thank  you.  You  manage  to  shake  more 
whim-whams  out  of  the  creases  than  you  know." 

He  stayed  her  by  a  wistful,  longing,  and  half-boy- 
ish smile. 


324  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Say,"  he  said,  "you  see  you  didn't  run  quick 
enough,  and  now  I'm  going  to  ask  you  something. 
You  must  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  women  as  well 
as  men  in  your  calling." 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"Seen  them  with  their  masks  off?" 

"Yes." 

"What  does  love  count  for  in  the  big  hours  of  life? 
Does  it  stand  everything,  anything?" 

Priscilla  felt  her  throat  contract.  She  longed  to 
say  something  that  would  reach  Huntter  without 
arousing  his  suspicions. 

"No;  love  —  at  least,  woman's  love,  doesn't  stand 
everything  —  always." 

"What  doesn't  it  stand?     The  essence,  I  mean." 

"It  doesn't  stand  unfair  play!  Women  under- 
stand fair  play  and  for  it  would  die.  They  may 
not  say  much,  but  —  they  never  forgive  being  — 
tricked." 

"Oh!  of  course.  How  graphic  you  are,  Miss 
Glynn.  You  sound  as  if  we  were  discussing  a  game 
of — of  tennis  or  bridge.  Gentlemen  do  not  trick 
ladies."  He  frowned  a  bit. 

"Don't  they,  Mr.  Huntter?" 

"Certainly  not!    What  I  meant  was  this:     You 

seem,  for  a  trained  woman,  very  human  and  —  and 

-well,  what  shall  I  say?  —  observing  and  rather  a 

—  thoroughbred.     If  you  loved,  now,  loved  really, 

is  there  anything  you  would  not  forgive  a  man? 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   325 

That  is,  if  his  love  for  you  was  the  biggest  thing  in 
his  life?" 

Priscilla  stood  quite  still  and  looked  at  the  pale, 
handsome  face  on  the  pillow. 

"My  love  —  yes;  my  love  could  and  would  for- 
give anything,  if  it  related  only  to  —  to  —  the  man 
I  loved  and  —  me!" 

The  frown  deepened  on  Huntter's  face;  he  turned 
uneasily. 

"After  all,"  he  muttered,  "a  man  and  woman  see 
things  so  differently.  There  is  no  use!" 

"I  wonder  —  if  things  would  not  seem  plainer  if 
they  saw  them  —  together?" 

But  Priscilla  saw  she  had  gone  too  far.  The  whim- 
sical mood  in  Huntter  had  passed.  He  was  himself 
again,  and  she  was  his  nurse  —  his  nurse  who  knew 
too  much!  More  fretfully  than  he  had  ever  spoken 
to  her,  he  said: 

"I  wish  to  be  alone,  Miss  Glynn." 

Priscilla  passed  out,  leaving  the  door  between  the 
rooms  ajar,  and  lay  down  upon  the  couch. 

To  Doctor  Hapgood  she  was  a  machine  merely; 
an  easy-running  one,  a  dependable  one,  but  none 
the  less  a  machine.  To  Huntter,  shut  away  from 
society,  gregarious,  friendly,  and  kindly,  she  had 
meant  much  more.  Her  recent  experience  abroad, 
with  all  the  exquisite  touches  of  human  interest  and 
uplift,  had  left  her  peculiarly  sensitive  to  her  present 
environment. 


326  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

She  liked  the  man  in  the  room  next  her.  There 
was  much  that  was  noble  and  fine  about  him,  but 
he  was  a  type  that  had  never  entered  her  life  before, 
and  often,  by  his  kindliest  word  and  gesture,  drew 
her  attention  to  a  yawning  space  between  them. 
She  was  at  her  ease,  perfectly  so,  when  near  him,  but 
she  knew  it  was  because  of  the  distance  that  sepa- 
rated them.  Still,  she  was  confronted  by  a  certain 
grim  fact,  and  that  ugly  knowledge  held  him  and 
her  together.  By  some  strange  process  of  reason 
she  wanted  him  to  live  up  to  the  best  in  him.  There 
were  two  markedly  different  sides  of  his  nature; 
she  trembled  before  one;  before  the  other  she  gave 
homage  as  she  did  to  Travers,  to  John  Boswell,  and 
Master  Farwell. 

The  day  before,  Huntter  had  had  a  long  talk  with 
Doctor  Hapgood  while  she  was  off  duty.  That  con- 
versation had  doubtlessly  caused  the  bad  night;  she 
wondered  about  it  now.  It  had  evidently  upset 
Huntter  a  good  deal. 

Then  Priscilla,  losing  consciousness  gradually, 
thought  of  Travers,  of  Margaret  Moffatt,  who  be- 
lieved her  to  be  out  of  the  city.  She  smiled  happily 
as  she  relived  her  blessed  memories  of  good  men  and 
women.  They  justified  and  sanctified  life,  love, 
and  happiness,  and  they  made  it  possible  for  her, 
poor,  struggling,  little  white  nurse  as  she  was,  with 
all  her  professional  knowledge,  to  trust  and  sympa- 
thize, and  faithfully  serve. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   327 

She  must  have  slept  deeply,  for  it  took  her  a  full 
moment  to  realize  that  some  one  in  the  next  room 
was  talking  and  —  saying  things! 

"No,  she's  asleep,  Huntter.  She  looks  worn  out. 
We  must  get  a  night  nurse.  Well,  I  have  only  this 
to  say:  God  knows  I  pity  you,  but  my  duty  compels 
me  to  say  that  — you  should  not  marry !  The  chances 
are  about  even;  but  —  you  shouldn't  take  the  risk." 

A  groan  brought  Priscilla  to  her  feet,  alert  and 
quivering.  Like  a  sudden  and  blinding  shock  she 
understood,  what  seemed  to  her,  a  whole  life  history. 
She  stumbled  to  the  door  and  faced  Dr.  Hapgood, 
hat  in  hand,  keen-eyed,  but  detached. 

"You  slept  —  heavily?" 

"Yes,  Doctor  Hapgood." 

"I  am  going  to  send  a  night  nurse  to  relieve  you. 
When  did  you  say  your  next  engagement  began  ? " 

"March  fifth." 

"Well,  you  will  need  a  week  to  recuperate.  Make 
your  plans  accordingly.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes." 

Did  he  suspect?  Did  he  warn  her?  But  his 
next  words  were  kindness  alone. 

"There  should  have  been  two  nurses  all  along. 
One  forgets  your  youth  in  your  efficiency.  Good 
morning." 

When  Priscilla  stood  beside  Huntter  again  his 
wan  face,  close-shut  eyes,  and  grim  mouth  almost 
frightened  her. 


328   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"I  want  to  sleep,"  he  said  briefly.  "Draw  down 
the  shades." 

The  night  nurse  became  a  staple  joke  between  her 
and  Huntter. 

"Lord!"  he  exclaimed  one  day  as  Priscilla  entered; 
"you're  like  the  morning:  clear,  fresh,  and  hopeful. 
Do  you  know,  that  to  escape  the  nightmare  that 
haunts  my  chamber  after  you  go,  I  have  to  play  sleep 
even  if  I'm  dying  with  thirst  or  blue  devils?  She's 
religious!  Think  of  a  nurse  with  religion  that  she 
feels  compelled  to  share  with  a  sick  man!  I'm  going 
to  get  up  to-day,  Miss  Glynn.  I've  bullied  Hap- 
good  into  giving  permission,  and  I've  done  him 
one  better.  I'm  going  to  have  a  visitor!  I'm  back 
from  Bermuda,  you  know.  After  you've  fixed  me 
up  —  isn't  it  a  glorious  day? — open  the  windows, 
and  —  I've  ordered  a  lot  of  flowers.  Put  them  in 
those  brass  bowls.  My  visitor  is  a  lady.  She  likes 
yellow  roses.  By  the  way,  Miss  Glynn,  Doctor 
Hapgood  tells  me  that  you've  been  in  —  Bermuda, 
too?  Thorough  old  disciplinarian  he!  You  must 
have  been  lonely.  And  you  leave  me  next  week? 
I  want  to  thank  you.  I  shall  thank  you  ceremoni- 
ously every  time  you  enter  after  this.  You've  been  — 
a  good  nurse  and  a  —  good  friend.  I  couldn't  say 
more,  now  could  I  ? " 

"No,  Mr.  Huntter.  And  you've  been  —  a  very 
brave  man!  I  know  you  will  always  be  that,  and 
make  light  of  it.  I  rather  like  the  half-joking  way 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    329 

you  do  your  kindest  things.     Here  are  the  flowers! 
Oh,  what  beauties!" 

Priscilla  turned  from  helping  Huntter  and  began 
arranging  the  glorious  mass  of  roses  in  the  brass 
bowls. 

"What  time  is  it,  Miss  Glynn?" 

"Eleven  o'clock." 

g"And  my  friend  is  due  at  eleven-thirty.  She  will 
be  here  on  the  minute.  I  feel  like  a  boy,  Miss 
Glynn.  One  gets  the  doldrums  being  alone  and 
convalescing.  How  the  grim  devils  catch  and  hold 
you  while  they  try  to  distort  life!  I  must  have  been 
a  sad  trial  to  you,  but  I'm  myself  again.  Tell  me, 
honest  true,  Miss  Glynn,  just  how  have  I  come  out 
in  your  estimation?  A  man  is  no  hero  to  his  valet. 
What  is  he  to  his  trained  nurse?" 

"You  have  been  very  patient  and  considerate." 
Priscilla's  back  was  turned  to  Huntter;  her  face  was 
quivering. 

"Negative  virtues!  Had  I  been  a  brute  you  would 
have  gone.  I  might  have  had  the  night  nurse  for 
twenty-four  hours.  I  dared  not  run  the  risk  of  let- 
ting you  go." 

"I've  come  out  pretty  well  in  your  estimation? 
That's  a  feather  in  my  nice,  white  cap,"  she  said. 

"I  wonder  why  I  care  what  you  think  of  me?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Huntter,  except  that  we  all 
care  for  the  good  opinion  of  those  who  wish  us  well." 

"You  wish  me -veil?" 


330   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"With  all  my  heart." 

"I'd  like"  -  Huntter  turned  his  face  toward  the 
window  and  the  glorious  winter  day  —  "I'd  like  to 
be  worthy  of  every  well-wisher.  I  feel  quite  the  good 
boy  this  morning.  I've  been  —  well,  I've  been 
rather  up  against  it,  I  fear,  and  a  trial  to  you,  for  all 
that  you  say  to  the  contrary;  but  I  am  going  to  make 
amends  to  you  —  and  the  world !  Now,  when  my 
friend  comes,  you  won't  mind  if  I  ask  you  to  leave  us 
alone  for  a  few  moments?  I  can  call  you  when  I 
need  you." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Huntter." 

"The  lady  is  —  you  may  have  guessed  —  my 
fiancee.  I  have  important  things  to  say  to  her, 
and-  -" 

Priscilla's  heart  beat  madly.  She  felt  she  was 
near  a  deeper  tragedy  than  any  that  had  ever  entered 
her  life.  And  just  then,  as  the  clock  struck  the  half 
hour,  came  a  tap  on  the  door: 

"Come!"  cried  Huntter,  in  a  tone  of  joy;  "Come!" 
And  in  burst  Margaret  Moffatt! 

She  did  not  notice  the  rigid  figure  by  the  bowl  of 
flowers;  her  radiant  face  was  fixed  upon  Huntter,  and 
she  ran  toward  him  with  outstretched  arms. 

"My  beloved!"  she  whispered.  "Oh!  my  dear, 
my  dear!  How  ill  you  have  been!  They  did  not 
tell  me.  I  shall  never  forgive  them.  When  did  you 
get  back  from  Bermuda?" 

Priscilla  slipped  from  the  room  and  closed  the  door 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    331 

noiselessly  behind  her,  but  not  before  she  had  seen 
Margaret  Moffatt  sink  into  Huntter's  arms;  not  be- 
fore she  heard  the  sigh  of  perfect  content  that  es- 
caped her. 

Alone  in  the  anteroom,  the  hideous  truth  flayed 
Priscilla  into  suffering  and  clear  vision. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  moaned,  clasping  her 
hands  and  swaying  back  and  forth.  All  the  burden 
and  responsibility  of  the  world  seemed  cast  upon  her. 
Then  reason  asserted  itself. 

"He  will  tell  her!  He  is  telling  her  now!  Killing 
her  love  —  killing  her!  Oh,  my  God!" 

Then  she  shrank  from  the  thought  that  she  would, 
in  a  few  moments,  have  to  face  her  friend!  How 
could  she,  when  she  remembered  that  holy  night  of 
confession  in  the  little  Swiss  village?  Again  she 
moaned,  "Oh!  my  God!"  But  she  was  spared  that 
scene.  Moments,  though  they  seemed  ages,  passed, 
and  then  Huntter  called: 

"MissGlynn!" 

She  hardly  recognized  his  voice.  It  was  —  tri- 
umphant, thrilling.  It  rang  boldly,  commandingly. 
When  she  entered,  Huntter  was  alone.  Gone  was 
the  guest;  gone  the  mass  of  golden  roses.  Huntter 
turned  a  face  glowing  and  confident  to  her. 

"Just  because  you  are  you,  Miss  Glynn,  and  be- 
cause I'm  the  happiest  man  in  New  York,  I  want  you 
to  congratulate  me.  That  was  Miss  MofFatt.  She 
and  I  are  to  marry  — '-  in  the  spring." 


332   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Did  you  —  mention  my  name  to  her?" 
Priscilla's  haggard  face  at  last  attracted  the  man. 
"No.     I  was  inhumanly  selfish.     You  must  for- 
give me.     I  meant  to  tell  her  of  your  faithful  care;  I 
meant  to  have  you  meet  her.     I  forgot." 

"Never  mention  —  me  to  her!     She  is  my  —  one 
friend  in  all  the  world;  my  one  woman  friend." 
They  faced  each  other  blankly,  fiercely.     Then: 
"Good    Lord,    Miss    Glynn!"    and    Huntter  — 
laughed! 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  week  of  recuperation  Doctor  Hapgood 
recommended  was  one  of  prolonged  torture 
to    Priscilla    Glenn.     Thinking    of   it    after- 
ward, she  realized  that  it  was  the  Gethsemane  of  her 
life  —  the  hour  when,  forsaken  by  all,  she  fought  her 
bitter  fight. 

The  drift  of  the  ages  confronted  her.  Her  own 
insignificance,  her  humbleness,  accentuated  and 
betrayed  her.  Who  would  listen?  How  dared  she 
speak!  Who  would  heed  her? 

One,  and  one  only.     Margaret  MofFatt! 

From  her  Priscilla  shrank  and  hid  until  she  could 
gain  courage  to  go  and  —  by  saving  her,  kill  her! 
Yes,  it  meant  that.  The  killing  of  the  beautiful 
All  Woman,  as  Travers  had  called  her.  After  the 
telling  there  would  be  only  the  shadow  of  the  splen- 
did creature  that  God  had  meant  to  be  so  happy,  if 
only  the  wrong  of  the  world  had  not  come  between! 

There  were  moments  when,  worn  by  struggle 
and  wakeful  nights,  Priscilla  felt  incapable  of  sane 
thought. 

Why  should  she  interfere,  she  asked  herself. 
Professional  silence  was  her  only  course.  And  — 

333 


334  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

there  was  the  chance  —  the  chance!  Against  it 
stood,  pleading,  Margaret's  radiant  love  and  Hunt- 
ter's  strength  and  devotion. 

Who  could  blame  her  if  she  —  forgot?  But  oh! 
how  they  would  curse  her  if  she  spoke!  They  might 
not  believe;  they  might  ruin  her! 

Then  faith  laid  its  commanding  touch  upon  her 
spirit.  It  had  been  given  her  to  know  a  woman  who, 
for  high  principles  and  all  the  sacred  future,  was  pre- 
pared to  sacrifice  her  love  if  needs  must  be! 

They  two,  Margaret  of  the  high-soul,  and  she, 
Priscilla  Glenn  of  the  understanding  devotion, 
seemed  to  stand  apart  and  alone,  each,  in  her  way, 
called  upon  to  testify  and  act. 

"It  must  be  done!"  moaned  Priscilla;  "she  must 
know  and  —  decide!  But  how?  how?" 

John  Boswell  and  Master  Farwell  were  gone  to  the 
In-Place.  The  sanctuary  overlooking  the  river  was 
closed.  There  was  no  one,  no  place,  to  which  Pris- 
cilla could  go  for  comfort  and  advice,  and  her  secret 
and  her  duty  left  her  no  peace  or  rest. 

She  had  taken  a  tiny  suite  in  a  family  hotel.  The 
rooms  had  the  comfort  needed  for  her  physical  wants, 
but  she  tossed  on  the  bed  nights  and  slept  brokenly. 
She  ate  poorly  and  grew  very  thin,  very  pale.  She 
walked,  days,  until  her  body  cried  out  for  mercy. 
She  cancelled  her  engagement,  for  she  was  unfitted 
for  service,  and  intuitively  she  knew  that,  for  her, 
a  great  change  was  near. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    335 

When  she  was  weak  from  weariness  and  lonely 
to  the  verge  of  exhaustion,  she  thought  of  Kenmore 
—  not  Travers  —  with  positive  yearning.  The  wo- 
man of  her,  madly  defending,  or  about  to  defend, 
woman,  excluded  even  her  own  love  and  her  own 
man.  It  was  sex  against  sex;  the  world's  injustice 
against  all  that  woman  held  sacred!  If  Margaret 
were  to  be  sacrificed,  so  was  she,  for  she  blindly  felt 
that  Travers  would  not  uphold  her!  How  could  he 
when  tradition  held  him  captive?  How  could  he 
when  his  oath  bound  him  like  a  slave?  Doctor  Hap- 
good  had  done  his  part,  had  spoken  his  word  —  to 
man!  But  that  was  not  enough.  Man  had  flaunted 
it,  was  willing  to  take  —  the  chance  without  giving 
the  woman  intelligent  choice.  Oh!  it  was  cruel,  it 
was  unjust,  and  it  must  be  defied.  She  and  Mar- 
garet must  stand  side  by  side,  or  life  never  again 
would  taste  sweet  and  pure! 

Priscilla  had  not  heard  from  Travers  in  ten  days, 
and  this  added  to  her  sense  of  desolation.  Then, 
one  evening,  coming  in  from  a  long  tramp  in  the 
park,  snow  covered  and  bedraggled,  she  faced  him  in 
her  own  little  parlour! 

"My  blessed  child!"  cried  he,  rushing  toward  her. 
"What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself? " 

She  was  in  his  arms;  his  hands  were  taking  off  her 
snow-wet  coat  and  hat.  He  was  whispering  to  her 
his  love  and  gladness  while  he  placed  her  in  a  chair 
and  lighted  the  tiny  gas  log  in  the  grate. 


336   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS  ; 

"It's  a  wicked  shame!"  he  said  laughingly;  "but 
it  will  have  to  do.  Now  then,  confess!" 

"Oh!  I  have  longed  so  for  you!  I  have  been  — 
mad!" 

Priscilla  tried  to  smile,  but  collapsed  miserably. 

"I  don't  believe  you  have  eaten  a"  morsel 
since "  Travers  glared  at  her  ferociously. 

"Since  I  —  I  was  in  Switzerland."  The  sob 
aroused  Travers  to  the  girl's  condition. 

"You  poor  little  tyke!"  he  said.  "Now  lean 
back  and  do  as  you're  told.  I'm  going  to  ring  for 
food.  Just  plain,  homely  food.  I'm  as  hungry  as  a 
bear  myself.  I  came  to  you  from  the  vessel.  I 
sent  mother  home  in  a  cab.  I  had  to  see  you.  We'll 
eat  —  play;  and  then,  my  precious  one,  we'll  talk 
business." 

"How  I  have  wanted  you!  needed  you!"  Again 
the  pitiful  wail. 

"Now  behave,  child!  When  the  waiter  comes  we 
must  be  as  staid  as  Darby  and  Joan.  You  poor 
little  girl!  Heavens!  how  big  your  eyes  are,  and 
how  frightened !  Come  in !  Yes.  This  is  the  order; 
serve  it  here. " 

The  waiter  took  the  order  wrapped  in  a  good-sized 
bill,  and  departed  on  willing  feet. 

"Your  hair  is  about  all  that's  familiar;  longing 
for  me  couldn't  take  the  shine  from  that!"  Travers 
kissed  it. 

"I  see  my  next  case,"  he  laughed.     "To  get  you 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    337 

in  shape  will  be  quite  an  achievement.  We  both 
need  —  play.  We  thrive  on  that." 

"Yes,  my  dear,  my  dear;  but  I  have  forgotten 
how!" 

"Nonsense!  Here's  the  food.  Put  the  table  near 
the  grate"  —  this  to  the  man-  "things  smoking 
hot;  that's  good.  The  wine,  please.  Thanks!  Miss 
Glynn,  to  your  health!" 

How  Travers  managed  it  no  one  could  tell,  but 
his  own  unfettered  joy  drove  doubt  and  care  from 
the  little  room.  Priscilla,  warmed  and  comforted, 
laughed  and  responded,  and  the  meal  was  a  merry 
one.  But  it  was  over  at  last,  and  the  grim  spectre 
stalked  once  more.  Travers  noticed  the  haunted 
look  in  the  eyes  following  his  every  movement,  and 
took  warning.  Something  was  seriously  wrong,  that 
was  evident;  but  he  had  boundless  faith  in  his  love 
and  power  to  drive  the  cloud  away.  After  the  room 
was  cleared  of  dishes  and  the  grateful  waiter,  Trav- 
ers attacked  the  shadow  at  once. 

He  drew  a  stool  to  Priscilla's  chair  and  flung  his 
long  body  beside  her. 

"Now,"  he  said,  with  wonderful  tenderness,  "let 
me  begin  my  life  work  at  once,  my  darling.  You  are 
troubled;  I  am  here  to  bear  it  all  —  for  you!" 

"Oh!    Will  you  bear  — half,  dear  heart?" 

"Yes,  and  that  is  better.  We  need  not  waste 
words,  my  tired  little  girl.  Out  with  the  worst  and 
then  —  you  and  I  are  going  to  —  my  mother!" 


338   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Your  — mother?" 

"My  mother!  God  bless  her!  You  know  she 
came  near  slipping  away.  She  will  need  and  love 
you  more  than  ever." 

" Oh !  how  good  it  sounds !  Mother !  Oh,  my  love, 
my  love !  I've  had  so  little  and  I've  wanted  so  much ! 
Your  mother!" 

"She'll  be  yours,  too,  Priscilla.  But  hurry,  child! 
Just  the  bare  structure;  my  love  will  fill  in  the  rest." 

"Do  not  look  up  at  me,  dear  man!  So,  let  me  rest 
my  face  on  your  head.  Can  you  hear  me  —  if  I 
whisper?" 

"Yes." 

"It's  about  Margaret  —  Margaret  Moffatt." 

"The  All  Woman,  the  happiest  creature,  next  to 
what  you're  going  to  be,  in  all  God's  world?" 

"No!" 

"No?     Priscilla,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Do  not  move.  Please  do  not  look  up.  She  is 
—  engaged  to  —  to  Clyde  Huntter!" 

"Well?" 

"I  did  not  know;  she  never  mentioned  his  name. 
While  we  played,  names  did  not  matter  —  his,  mine, 
no  one's."  An  hysterical  gasp  caused  Travers  to 
start. 

"No,  please  keep  your  face  turned.  I  must  tell 
you  in  my  way.  I  have  just  taken  care  of — Mr. 
Huntter.  He  is  not. —  fit  to  marry  any  woman  — 
he  cannot  marry  —  Margaret!  Doctor  Hapgood 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    339 

told  him,  but  —  he  —  means  to  marry!  She  came 
to  see  him;  she  did  not  see  me;  she  does  not  know; 
but  she  must  know!"  fiercely;  "she  must  know! 
That  is  the  one  thing  above  all  else  that  would 
matter  to  her;  she  told  me  so!  She  does  not  live 
for  the  —  the  now;  she  was  made  for  —  for  bigger 
things!" 

"My  God!"  Travers  was  on  his  feet,  and  he 
dragged  Priscilla  with  him.  He  held  her  close  by 
her  wrists  and  searched  her  white,  agonized  face. 
Truth  and  stern  purpose  were  blazoned  on  it.  She 
had  never  looked  so  beautiful,  so  noble,  or  so  — 
menacing. 

"You  heard  Doctor  Hapgood  say  that?" 

"I  did." 

"In  your  presence?" 

"No."  Then  she  described  the  little  scene  graphi- 
cally. 

"But  Ledyard "  Then  he  paused.  Led- 

yard's  confidence  must  be  sacred  to  him. 

"And  Huntter  —  Huntter  knows  that  you  know; 
does  he  know  that  you  are  Margaret's  friend?" 

"Yes." 

"And  —  he  trusts  you?" 

"He  thinks  I  do  not  count,  but  I  do  —  with  Mar- 
garet." 

"Priscilla,  this  is  no  work  for  you,  poor  child!" 

"It  is  —  hers  —  and  mine,  and  God's!"  deter- 
minedly. 


340  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Darling,  you  are  overwrought.  You  must  trust 
me.  You  know  what  I  think  of  such  things;  you  can 
safely  leave  this  to  me.  Ledyard  is  Huntter's  phy- 
sician. Why  he  called  Hapgood  in,  I  do  not  know. 
I  will  go  to  Ledyard.  Can  you  not  see  —  that  they 
would  not  believe  —  you  ? " 

"Margaret  will!"  * 

"But  her  father!  You  do  not  understand,  my 
precious.  You  dear,  little,  unworldly  soul!  Mar- 
garet Moffatt's  marriage  means  a  ninth  wonder. 
Any  meddling  with  that  would  have  to  be  sifted  to 
the  dregs.  And  when  they  reached  you,  my  own 
girl,  they  would  grind  you  to  atoms!" 

"Not  — Margaret!" 

Priscilla  drew  herself  away  from  the  straining 
hands.  She  was  quite  calm  now  and  terribly  earnest. 

"When  all's  told,  it  is  Margaret  and  I  —  and 
God!" 

"No.  There  are  others,  and  other  things.  All 
the  world's  forces  are  against  you." 

"No,  they  are  not!  They  are  turning  with  me. 
I  feel  them;  I  feel  them.  I  am  not  afraid."  Then 
she  took  command,  while  Travers  stood  amazed. 
She  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  held  him  so 
before  the  bar  of  her  crude,  woman-judgment. 

"Answer  me,  my  beloved!  You  believe  —  what 
I  have  told  you?" 

"I  do." 

"You  know  Doctor  Hapgood  will  do  no  more?" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   341 

"He  —  cannot." 

"If  you  go  to  Doctor  Ledyard  —  and  he  knows 
and  believes  —  what  will  he  do?" 

"He  has  been  Huntter's  physician  for  years.  If 
he  has  been  mistaken,  he  will  go  to  Huntter." 

"Go  to  —  Huntter!  And  what  then?  Suppose 
Mr.  Huntter  —  still  takes  the  chance?" 

"  Ledyard  will  —  he  will  forbid  it!  " 

"And  what  good  will  that  do?"  A  pitiful  bitter- 
ness crept  into  Priscilla's  voice;  her  lips  quivered. 

"It  is  all  Huntter!  Huntter!  All  men!  men!  and 
there  stands  my  dear  —  alone!  No  one  goes  to 
her  to  let  —  her  choose;  no  one  but  me!  Don't  you 
see  what  I  mean?  Oh!  my  love,  my  love!  My 
good,  good  man,  can  you  leave  her  there  in  ignorance, 
all  of  you?  Through  the  ages  she  has  not  had  her 
say  —  about  the  chance,  and  that  is  why  - 

Priscilla  paused,  choked  by  rising  passion. 

"Little  girl,  listen!  What  do  you  mean?"  Trav- 
ers  was  genuinely  alarmed  and  ajixious. 

"I  mean"  —  the  white,  set  face  looked  like  an 
avenger's,  not  a  passionately  loving  woman's  — 
"I  mean  —  that  because  women  have  never  had  an 
opportunity  to  know  and  to  choose,  you  and  I,  and 
all  people  like  us,  stand  helpless  with  our  own  great 
heaven-sent  love  at  peril!" 

"At  peril!     Oh,  my  dear  girl!" 

"Yes,  at  peril.  We  do  not  know  what  to  do, 
where  to  turn.  You  see  the  great  injustice  clearly 


342   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

as  I  do;  but  you  —  all  men  have  tried  to  right  it  by 
themselves,  in  their  way,  while  all  women,  through 
all  the  ages,  have  stood  aside  and  tried  to  think 
they  were  doing  God's  will  when  they  accepted  — 
your  best;  your  half  best!  Now,  oh!  now  something 

—  I  think  it  is  God  calling  loud  to  them  —  is  waking 
them  up.     They  know  —  you  cannot  do  this  thing 
alone;  it  is  their  duty,  too  —  they  must  help  you, 
for,  oh!"  —  Priscilla  leaned  toward  him  with  tear- 
blinded  eyes  and  pleading  hands  —  "For  the  sake  of 
the  —  the  little  children  of  the  world.     Oh!  men 
are  fathers,  good  fathers,  but  they  have  forgotten 
the  part  mothers  must  take!     We  women  cannot 
leave  it  all  to  you.     It  is  wicked,  wicked  for  women 
to  try!     There  is  something  mightier  than  our  love 

—  we  are  learning  that!" 

Travers  took  her  in  his  arms.  She  was  weeping 
miserably.  His  heart  yearned  over  her,  for  he 
feared  she  was  feeling,  as  women  sometimes  did,  the 
awful  weight  of  injustice  men  had  unconsciously, 
often  in  deepest  love,  laid  upon  them. 

"Priscilla,  you  trust  me;  trust  my  love?" 

"Yes." 

"You  believe  me  when  I  say  that  I  see  this  —  as 
you  do  —  but  that  we  only  differ  as  to  methods?" 

"I  —  I  hope  I  see  that  and  believe  it." 

"Then"    -and  here  Travers  did  his  poor,  blind 
part  to  lay  another  straw  upon  the  drift  of  burden  - 
"leave  this  —  to  me.     I  know  better  than  you  do 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   343 

the  end  of  any  such  mad  course  as  you,  in  your 
affection  and  sense  of  wrong,  might  take.  Little 
girl,  let  me  try  to  show  you.  Suppose  you  went  to 
Margaret  Moffatt.  You  know  her  proud,  sensitive 
nature;  her  loyalty  and  absolute  frankness.  After 
the  shock  and  torture  she  would  go  to  her  father 
with  the  truth  —  for  she  would  believe  you  —  and 
announce  her  unwillingness  —  I  am  sure,  even 
though  her  heart  broke,  she  would  do  this  —  to  marry 
Huntter.  Then  the  matter  would  lie  among  men; 
men  with  the  traditional  viewpoint;  men  with  much, 
much  at  stake.  If  Huntter  has,  as  you  say,  taken 
the  chance,  in  his  love  for  Margaret  —  and  he  does 
love  her,  poor  devil!  —  he  will  defend  himself  and 
his  position." 

"How?"  Priscilla  was  regaining  her  calm;  she 
raised  her  head  and  faced  Travers  from  the  circle 
of  his  arms. 

"He  will  —  send   Moffatt  to  —  to  —  Hapgood." 

"And  he  — what  will  he  do?" 

"What  does  the  priest  do  when  the  secrets  of  the 
confessional  are  attacked?" 

"Yes,  yes  — but  then?" 

"Then  —  oh!  my  precious  girl!  Can  you  not 
see?  You  will  come  into  focus.  You,  my  love,  my 
wife,  but,  nevertheless,  a  woman!  a  trained  nurse! 
Hapgood  would  flay  you  alive,  not  because  he  has 
anything  against  you,  but  professional  honour  and 
discipline  would  be  at  stake.  Between  such  a  man 


344   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

as  Hapgood  and  —  Priscilla  Glynn  —  oh!  can  you 
not  see  my  dear,  dear  girl?" 

"Yes,  I  begin  to  see.  And  —  I  see  I  dare  not 
trust  even  you!"  The  hard  note  in  Priscilla's 
voice  hurt  Travers  cruelly.  "And  —  you,  you  and 
Doctor  Ledyard  —  how  would  you  stand  ? "  she  asked 
faintly. 

Travers  held  her  at  arm's  length,  and  his  face 
turned  ashen  gray. 

"Besides  being  men,  we,  too,  are  physicians!"  he 
said.  "Brutal  as  this  sounds,  it  is  truth!" 

The  light  burned  dangerously  in  Priscilla's  eyes. 

"When  you  are  physicians  —  you  are  not  men!" 
she  panted,  and  suddenly,  by  a  sharp  stab  of  memory, 
Ledyard's  words,  back  in  the  boyhood  days  at  Ken- 
more,  stung  Travers.  They  were  like  an  echo  in  his 
brain. 

"You  —  you  of  all  women,  cannot  say  that  and 
mean  it,  my  darling!"  he  cried,  and  tried  to  draw 
her  to  him.  She  resisted. 

"Our  love,  the  one  sacred  thing  of  our  very  own," 
he  pleaded,  "is  in  peril."  He  saw  it  now.  "Can 
you  not  see?  Even  if  it  is  woman  against  woman, 
what  right  have  you,  Priscilla,  to  cloud  and  hurt  our 
love?" 

"It  is  not  —  woman  against  woman  —  any  more." 
The  words  came  sweetly,  almost  joyously;  something 
like  renunciation  tinged  them.  "It  is  woman  for 
woman  until  men  will  take  us  by  the  hands,  trust- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   345 

ingly,  faithfully,  and  work  with  us  for  what  belongs 
equally  to  us  both!" 

The  radiance  of  the  uplifted  eyes  frightened  Trav- 
ers.  So  might  she  look,  he  thought,  had  she  passed 
through  death  and  come  out  victorious. 

"Now,  just  for  a  time,"  the  tense,  thrilling  voice 
went  on,  "she  and  I  —  women  —  must  stand  alone, 
and  do  our  best  as  we  see  it.  It  is  no  good  leaving 
it  to  —  to  any  man.  I  see  that!  And  our  love, 
yours  and  mine!  Oh!  dear  man  of  my  heart,  that 
can  never  die  or  be  hurt.  It  is  yours,  mine!  God 
gave  it.  God  will  not  take  it  away.  God  will  not  take 
Margaret's  either.  She  will  understand,  and,  even 
alone,  far,  far  from  her  love,  she  will  be  true,  as  I 
will  be.  That  is  what  it  means  to  us!"  Then  she 
paused  and  smiled  at  Travers  as  across  a  widening 
chasm. 

"I  —  am  going  now!" 

" Going  ?     My  beloved  —  going  —  where  ? '' 

"To  Margaret." 

"You  —  dare  not!  You  shall  not!  You  are  — 
mad!" 

"No.  I  am  —  going,  because,  as  things  are,  I 
cannot  —  trust  you,  even  you!  That  is  our  penalty 
for  the  world's  wrong.  Long,  long  ago  some  one  — 
oh!  it  was  back  in  the  days  when  I  did  not  know 
what  life  meant  —  some  one  told  me  —  never  to 
let  any  one  kill  my  ideal!  No  one  ever  has!  It 
goes  on  before,  leading  and  beckoning.  I  must  fol- 


346 

low.  I  do  not  know  where  he  is,  he  who  told  me, 
but  I  know,  as  sure  as  I  know  that  I  shall  always 
love  you,  that  he  is  following  his  ideal,  and  living 
true  and  sure.  Good  night." 

Unable  to  think  or  act,  Travers  saw  Priscilla  take 
up  her  still  damp  coat  and  hat.  Like  a  man  in  a 
nightmare  he  saw  her  turn  a  deadly  white  face  upon 
him,  and  then  the  door  closed  and  he  was  alone 
in  her  little  room! 

He  looked  about,  dazed  and  emotionless.  He  felt 
her  in  every  touch  of  the  lonely  place;  her  books,  her 
little  pictures,  herself!  Some  women  are  like  that: 
they  leave  themselves  in  the  presence  of  them  they 
love  —  forever! 

"Kill  her  ideal!"  The  words  rang  in  the  empty 
corners  of  his  heart  and  mind.  "Somewhere  he  is 
following  his  ideal,  and  living  true  and  sure!" 

Unconsciously,  as  men  do  in  an  hour  of  stress, 
Travers  turned  to  action.  Presently  he  found  him- 
self setting  the  tiny  room  in  order  as  one  does  after 
a  dear  one  has  departed,  or  a  spirit  taken  its  flight. 
And  while  he  moved  about  his  reason  was  slowly 
readjusting  itself,  and  he  felt  poignantly  his  im- 
potency,  his  inability  to  use  even  his  love  for  domi- 
nance. Being  a  just  and  honest  man,  he  could  not 
deny  what  Priscilla  had  said;  truth  rang  in  every 
sentence,  chimed  in  with  the  minor  notes  of  his  life. 
No  thought  of  following  or  staying  her  entered  his 
mind;  she  had  set  about  her  business,  woman's  busi- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   347 

ness,  and,  to  the  man's  excited  fancy,  he  seemed  to 
see  her  pressing  forward  to  the  doing  of  that  to 
which  her  soul  called  her.  Then  it  was  her  beautiful 
shining  hair  he  remembered,  and  his  passion  cried 
out  for  its  own. 

"This  comes,"  he  fiercely  cried,  setting  his  teeth 
hard,  "of  our  leaving  them  behind  —  our  women! 
Through  the  ages  their  place  has  been  beside  us  as 
we  fought  every  foe  of  the  race.  We  set  them  aside 
in  our  folly,  and  now"  —  he  bowed  his  head  upon 
his  folded  arms  —  "and  now  they  are  waking  up 
and  demanding  only  what  is  theirs!" 

A  specimen  of  the  new  man  was  Travers,  but  in- 
heritance, and  Ledyard's  teaching,  had  left  their 
seal  upon  him.  Bowed  in  Priscilla's  little  room 
he  tried  to  see  his  way,  but  for  a  time  he  reasoned 
with  Ledyard's  words  ringing  in  his  ears.  Had  he 
not  gone  over  this  with  his  friend,  and  partner  many 
a  time? 

"Yes,  I  know  the  cursed  evil,  know  its  power  and 
danger!  Yes,  it  threatens  —  the  race,  but  it  has 
its  roots  in  the  ages;  it  must  be  tackled  cautiously. 
If  we  take  the  stand  you  suggest"  -for  Travers 
had  put  forth  his  violent,  new  opposition-  "what 
will  happen  ?  The  quacks  and  money-making  sharks 
will  get  the  upper  hand.  Do  you  think  men  would 
come  to  us  if  exposure  faced  them?  It's  the  devil, 
my  boy;  but  of  the  two  evils  this,  God  knows,  is 
the  least.  We  must  do  what  we  can;  work  for  a 


348  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

scientific  and  moral  redemption,  but  never  play  the 
game  like  fools.'*  —  "  But  the  women,"  Travers  had 
put  in  feverishly,  "the  women!  "  —  "  Spare  me,  boy! 
The  women  have  clutched  the  heart  of  me  —  always. 
The  women  and  the  —  the  babies.  I've  used  them 
to  flay  many  men  into  remorse  and  better  living.  I 
am  thinking  of  them,  as  God  hears  me,  when  I  take 
the  course  I  do!" 

And  so  Travers  suffered  and  groaned  in  the  small, 
deserted  room. 

Above  and  beyond  Ledyard's  reasoning  stood 
two  desolate  figures.  They  seemed  to  represent  all 
women:  his  Priscilla  and  Margaret  MofFatt!  One, 
the  crude  child  of  nature  with  her  gleam  undimmed, 
leading  her  forth  unhampered,  though  love  and 
suffering  blocked  her  way;  the  other,  the  daughter 
of  ages  of  refinement  and  culture,  who  had  heard 
the  call  of  the  future  in  her  big  woman-heart  and 
could  leave  all  else  for  the  sake  of  the  crown  she 
might  never  wear,  but  which,  with  God's  help,  she 
would  never  defile. 

On,  on,  they  two  went  befo re  Travers's  aching  eyes. 
The  way  before  them  was  shining,  or  was  it  the  light 
of  Priscilla's  hair?  They  were  leaving  him,  all  men, 

in  the  dark!  It  was  to  seek  the  light,  or And 

then  Travers  got  up  and  left  the  room  with  bowed 
head,  like  one  turning  his  back  upon  the  dead. 

He  went  to  Ledyard  at  once,  and  found  that  cheer- 
ful gentleman  awaiting  him. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   349 

"At  last!"  he  cried.  "Helen  telephoned  at  seven. 
She  thought  you  were  on  your  way  here.  Did  you 
get  lost?" 

"Yes." 

"What's  the  matter,  Dick?  You  look  as  if  you 
had  seen  a  ghost." 

"  I  have.     An  army  of  them." 

"Are  you  — ill?" 

"No." 

"Sit  down,  boy.  Here,  take  a  swallow  of  wine. 
You're  used  up.  Now  then!" 

"  Doctor  Ledyard,  you  were  wrong  —  about  Hunt- 
ter! You  remember  what  you  told  me,  before  Mar- 
garet Moffatt  announced  her  engagement?" 

"Yes."  Ledyard  poured  himself  a  glass  of  wine 
and  walked  to  his  chair  across  the  room. 

"You  were  wrong;  he  is  not  what  you  think." 

"What  do  you  mean?  I  haven't  seen  Huntter  for 
-  for  a  year  or  more.  I  took  care,  sacred  care, 
though,  to  —  to  trace  him  from  the  time  he  first 
came  to  me,  more  than  ten  years  ago.  No  straighter, 
more  honourable  man  breathes  than  he.  He  was 
one  of  the  victims  of  ignorance  and  crooked  reason- 
ing, but,  thank  God !  he  was  spared  the  worst." 

"He  was  —  not." 

"Dick,  in  God's  name,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Haf  good  was  called  in.  Huntter  has  not  been 
in  Bermuda;  he  has  been  right  here  in  New  York, 
under  Hapgood's  care." 


350  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"And  Hapgoocl  —  told  you?" 

A  purplish  flush  dyed  Ledyard's  face. 

"No." 

"Who,  then?     No  sidetracking,  Dick.     Who?" 

"The  —  the  nurse." 

"She-devil!  Fell  in  love  with  her  patient?  I've 
struck  that  kind " 

"Stop!" 

Both  men  were  on  their  feet  and  glaring  at  each 
other. 

"You  are  speaking  of  my  future  —  wife!" 

Ledyard  loosened  his  collar  and  —  laughed! 

"You're  mad!"  he  said  faintly,  "or  a  damned 
fool!" 

"I'm  neither.  I  am  engaged  to  marry  Priscilla 
Glynn;  have  been  since  the  summer.  I  meant  to 
tell  you  and  mother  to-night.  I  went  to  her  from 
the  vessel.  Priscilla  Glynn  took  care  of  Huntter 
without  knowing  of  his  connection  in  the  MofFatt 
affair.  Above  all  else  in  the  world"  —  Traverses 
voice  shook  —  "she  adores  Margaret  MofFatt,  knows 
her  intimately,  and  wishes,  blindly,  to  serve  her  as 
she  understands  her.  There  are  such  women,  you 
know,  and  they  are  becoming  more  numerous.  She 
has  gone  to  —  tell  Margaret  MofFatt." 

"Gone?"  Ledyard  reeled  back  a  step.  "And  you 
permitted  that?" 

"  I  had  no  choice.  You  do  not  know  —  my  —  my 
—  well,  Miss  Glynn." 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    351 

"Not  know  her?  The  young  fiend!  Not  know 
her?  I  remember  her  well.  I  might  have  known 
that  no  good  could  come  from  her.  But  —  we  can 
crush  her,  the  young  idiot!  I  do  not  envy  you  your 
fiancee,  Dick." 

The  telephone  rang  sharply  and  Ledyard  took  up 
the  receiver  with  trembling  hand. 

"It's  your  mother,"  he  said;  "you  had  better 
speak  for  yourself." 

"So  you  are  there,  Dick?" 

"Yes,  mother." 

"There  was  a  message  just  now.  Such  a  peculiar 
one.  I  thought  you  had  better  have  it  at  once.  It 
was  only  this:  'She  knows*  and  a  'good-bye/  ' 

"Thanks,  mother.     I  understand." 

Ledyard  watched  the  unflinching  face  and  noted 
the  even  voice.  He  was  so  near  he  had  caught 
Helen's  words. 

"And  that  is  all,  mother?" 

"All,  dear." 

"I'll  be  home  soon.     Goodnight." 

Then  he  looked  up  at  Ledyard,  and  the  older  man's 
face  softened. 

"You'll  find  this  sort  of  thing  is  a  devil  of  a  jigsaw. 
It  cuts  in  all  directions,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on 
Travers's  shoulder. 

"Yes,  doesn't  it?  But,  Doctor  Ledyard,  I  want 
to  tell  you  something.  She's  right  —  that  girl  of 
mine,  and  Margaret  MofFatt,  too  —  and  you  know  it 


352   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

as  well  as  I  do!  If  I  can,  I'm  going  to  have  my 
love  and  my  woman;  but  even  if  I  go  empty  hearted 
to  my  grave  I  shall  know  —  they  are  right!  Be- 
sides being  women,  and  our  loves,  they  are  human 
beings,  and  they  are  beginning  to  find  it  out.  The 
way  may  lead  through  hell,  but  it  ends  in  - 

"What?"  Ledyard  breathed;  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
stern  young  face. 

"  In  understanding.  It  leads  to  the  responsibility 
all  women  must  take.  Good  night,  old  friend.'* 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

PRISCILLA  had  gone  straight  from  Margaret 
Moffatt's  to  her  own  little  apartment.  She 
had  no  sense  of  suffering;  no  sensation  at  all. 
She  must  pack  and  get  away!  And  like  a  dead 
thing  she  set  to  work,  although  it  was  midnight  and 
she  had  been  so  weary  before;  and  then  she  smiled 
quiveringly: 

"Before!" 

She  stood  and  stretched  out  her  arms  to  the  empty 
space  where  Travers  had  been. 

"Oh!  my  dear,  dear  man!"  she  moaned.  "My 
beloved!" 

She  had  set  the  spark  to  the  powder;  by  to-morrow 
the  devastation  would  be  complete.  That,  she  knew 
full  well.  And  he  —  the  man  she  loved  above  all 
else  in  life  —  in  order  to  escape  must  seek  safety  with 
those  others!  All  those  others  —  men!  men!  men! 
Only  she  and  Margaret,  suffering  and  alone,  would 
stand  in  the  ruins.  But  from  those  ruins!  Her  eyes 
shone  as  with  a  vision  of  what  must  be. 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you  —  all  about  it!"  the  weak, 
human  need  called  to  the  absent  love.  The  whis- 
pered words  brought  comfort;  even  his  memory  was 

353 


354  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

a  stronghold.  It  always  would  be,  even  when  she 
was  far  away  in  her  In-Place,  never  to  see  him  again. 

How  thankful  she  was  that  he  did  not  know, 
really.  He  could  not  follow;  she  would  not  be  able 
to  hurt  him  —  after  to-morrow.  Her  changed  name 
had  saved  her! 

"Priscilla  Glynn,"  she  faltered,  "hide  her,  hide 
her  forever,  hide  poor  Priscilla  Glenn." 

Then  her  thoughts  flew  back  to  the  recent  past. 
She  had  found  Margaret  alone  in  her  own  library. 

"Now  how  did  you  know  I  wanted  you  more 
than  any  one  else  in  the  world?"  Margaret  had 
said.  "When  did  you  get  back?  You  baddest  of 
the  bad !  Why  did  you  hide  from  me  ?  Where  were 
you?" 

"In  —  Bermuda."  How  ghastly  it  sounded,  but 
it  caught  Margaret's  quick  thought. 

"Sit  down,  you  little  ghost  of  bygone  days  of  bliss. 
You'll  have  to  play  again.  Work  is  killing  you.  In 
Bermuda?  What  doing?" 

"Wearing  —  my  cap  and  apron,  dear,  dear " 

"Your  cap  and  apron?  I  thought  you  burned 
them!  I  shall  tell  Travers,  you  deceitful,  money- 
getting  little  fraud!  Well,  who  has  taken  it  out  of 
you  so  ?  You  are  as  white  as  ivory.  Do  you  know 
the  Traverses  came  in  on  the  St.  Cloud  to-day?" 

"Yes.     Doctor  Travers  came  to  see  me." 

"Ha!  ha!  He  doesn't  seem  to  have  cheered  you 
much.  I  wager  he's  told  you  what  he  thinks  of  you, 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    355 

tossing  to  the  winds  all  the  beautiful  health  and  spir- 
its of  the  summer!  When  are  you  to  be  married? 
I  must  tell  him  to  bully  you  as  —  as  my  dear  love 
is  bullying  me!  Has  Doctor  Ledyard  growled  at  you? 
I  can  twist  him  easily!  He  is  a  darling,  and  just 
wears  that  face  and  voice  for  fun  in  order  to  scare 
little  redheaded  nurses.  Cilia,  dear  heart,  I'm  going 
to  be  married  in  June!  Dear,  old-fashioned  June, 
with  roses  and  good  luck  and  —  oh !  the  heaven  seems 
opening  and  the  glory  is  pouring  down!  There, 
girlie!  cuddle  here!  I'm  going  to  tell  you  every- 
thing; even  to  the  mentioning  of  names !  I've  always 
hated  to  label  my  joy  before.  But,  first,  take  some 
chocolate;  it's  hot  and  piping.  Nowf  Whom  did 
you  nurse  in  Bermuda?  I'm  going  to  tell  him,  or 
her,  what  I  think  of  him!" 

"I  —  nursed  —  Mr.  Clyde  Huntter.  We  were  in 
New  York  all  the  time.  That  is  why  —  I  had  to  keep 
-  still  - 

"Mr.  Clyde  Huntter?"  Margaret  set  the  cup 
she  held,  down  sharply.  The  quick  brain  was  alert 
and  in  action. 

"  Mr.  Clyde  Huntter  ? "  And  then  Margaret  Mof- 
fatt  came  close  to  Priscilla,and  looked  down  deep  into 
the  unfaltering  eyes  raised  to  hers. 

"  Mr.  Clyde  Huntter  —  is  the  man  I  am  to  marry ! " 
she  said  in  a  voice  from  which  the  girlish  banter  had 
gone  forever.  It  was  the  voice  of  a  woman  in  arms 
to  defend  all  she  worshipped. 


356   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  was  in  his  room  the  day  you 
called.  I  thought  I  should  die.  I  hoped  he  would 
tell  you.  I  was  ready  to  stand  beside  you;  but  he 
did  not  tell!" 

"Tell  —  what?  As  God  hears  you,  Priscilla,  as 
you  love  me,  and  —  and  as  I  trust  you,  tell  me 
what?" 

And  then  Priscilla  had  told  her.  At  first  Mar- 
garet stood,  taking  the  deadly  blow  like  a  Spartan 
woman,  her  grave  eyes  fixed  upon  Priscilla.  Slowly 
the  cruel  truth,  and  all  it  implied,  found  its  way 
through  the  armour  of  her  nobility  and  faith.  She 
began  to  droop;  then,  like  one  whose  strength  has 
departed,  she  dropped  beside  Priscilla's  chair  and 
clung  to  her.  It  had  not  taken  long  to  tell,  but  it 
had  lain  low  every  beautiful  thing  but  —  courage! 

"Back  there,"  Margaret  had  said  at  last,  "back 
there  where  we  played,  I  told  you  I  was  ready  for 
sacrifice.  I  thought  my  God  was  not  going  to 
exact  that,  but  since  he  has,  I  am  ready.  Priscilla, 
I  still  have  God!  I  wonder"  —  and,  oh!  how  the 
weak,  pain-filled  voice  had  wrung  Priscilla's  heart 

—  "I  wonder  if  you  can  understand  when  I  tell  you 
that  I  love  my  love  better  now  —  than  ever?     Shall 
always  love  him,  my  poor  boy!     Can  you  not  see 
that  he  did  not  mean  —  to  be  evil?     It  was  the 
curse  handed  down  to  him,  and  when  he  found  out 

—  his  love,  our  love,  had  taken  possession  of  him, 
and  he  could  not  let  me  —  go!     I  feel  as  if —  as  if  I 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   357 

were  his  mother!  He  cannot  have  the  thing  he 
would  die  for,  but  I  shall  love  him  to  the  end  of  life. 
I  shall  try  to  make  it  up  to  him  —  in  some  way; 
help  him  to  be  willing  and  brave,  to  do  the  right; 
teach  him  that  my  way  is  the  only  —  honourable 
way.  I  am  sure  both  he  and  I  will  be  —  glad  not 
—  not  to  let  others,  oh!  such  sad,  little  others,  pay 
the  debt  for  us.  Our  day  is  —  is  short  at  best,  but 
the  —  the  eternity!  And  you,  dear,  faithful  Cilia! 
You,  with  your  blessed  love,  how  will  it  be  when  I 
have  done  what  I  must  do?  I  must  go  to  —  to 
father  and  tell  the  truth,  and  then 

"I  know,"  Priscilla  had  said.  "Doctor  Travers 
told  me  what  would  follow.  I  shall  not  be  here  for 
him  to  suffer  for;  I  am  going " 

"Where,  my  precious  friend?" 

"To  —  the  Place  Beyond  the  Winds!  You  do 
not  understand.  You  cannot;  no  one  can  follow 
me;  but  I  cannot  bear  the  hurting  blasts  any  more. 
I  want  the  In-Place." 

Then  it  was  over,  and  now  she  was  back  in  her 
lonely  rooms.  She  packed  her  few,  dear  possessions, 
and  toward  morning  lay  down  upon  her  bed.  At 
daylight  she  departed,  after  settling  her  affairs  with 
the  night  clerk  and  leaving  no  directions  that  any 
one  could  follow. 

"It  is  business,"  she  had  cautioned,  and  the  sleepy 
fellow  nodded  his  head. 

The  rest  did  not  matter.     She  would  travel  to  the 


358   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

port  from  which  the  boats  sailed  to  Kenmore.  Any 
boat  would  do;  any  time.  Some  morning,  perhaps, 
at  four  o'clock,  if  the  passage  had  not  been  too  rough, 
she  would  find  herself  on  the  shabby  little  wharf  with 
the  pink  morning  light  about  her,  and  the  red-rock 
road  stretching  on  before. 

Then  Priscilla,  like  a  miser,  gripped  her  purse. 
Never  before  had  money  held  any  power  over  her, 
but  the  hundreds  she  had  saved  were  precious  to 
her  now.  Her  father's  doors  were  still,  undoubtedly, 
closed  to  her.  She  could  not  be  a  burden  to  the 
two  men  living  in  Master  Farwell's  small  home. 
There  was,  to  be  sure,  Mary  McAdam!  By  and  by, 
perhaps,  when  the  hurt  was  less  and  she  could  trust 
herself  more,  she  would  go  to  the  White  Fish  Lodge 
and  beg  for  employment;  but  until  then 

The  morning  Priscilla  departed,  Ledyard,  unequal 
to  any  further  strain,  was  called  upon  to  bear  several. 
By  his  plate,  at  the  breakfast  table,  lay  a  scrawled 
envelope  that  he  recognized  at  once  as  a  report  from 
Tough  Pine. 

"What's  up  now?"  muttered  he.  "This  thing 
isn't  due  for  —  three  weeks  yet." 

Then  he  read,  laboriously,  the  crooked  lines: 

I  give  up  job.  Dirty  work.  Money  —  bad  money.  I 
take  no  more  —  or  I  be  damned!  He  better  man  —  than 
you  was;  you  bad  and  evil,  for  fun  —  he  grow  big  and 
white.  No  work  for  bad  man  —  friend  now  to  good  mens. 

PINE. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   359 

"The  devil!"  muttered  Ledyard;  but  oddly 
enough  the  letter  raised,  rather  than  lowered,  his 
mental  temperature.  Those  ill-looking  epistles  of 
Pine's  had  nauseated  him  lately.  He  had  begun  to 
experience  the  sensation  of  over-indulgence.  Some 
one  had  told  him,  a  time  back,  of  Boswell's  leaving 
the  city,  and  he  had  been  glad  of  the  suspicion  that 
arose  in  him  when  he  heard  it. 

Later  in  the  day  the  forces  Priscilla  had  set  in 
motion  touched  and  drew  him  into  the  maelstrom. 

"Ledyard"  -this  over  the  telephone  —  "my 
daughter  has  just  informed  me  that  she  is  about  to 
break  her  engagement.  May  I  see  you  at  —  three  ? " 

"Yes.     Here,  or  at  your  office?" 

"I  will  come  to  you." 

They  had  it  out,  man  to  man,  and  with  all  the 
time-honoured  and  hoary  arguments. 

"My  girl's  a  fool!"  Moffatt  panted,  red-faced  and 
eloquent.  "Not  to  mention  what  this  really  means 
to  all  of  us,  there  is  the  girl's  own  happiness  at  stake. 
What  are  we  to  tell  the  world?  You  cannot  go 
about  and  —  explain!  Good  Lord!  Ledyard,  Hunt- 
ter  stands  so  high  in  public  esteem  that  to  start  such 
a  story  as  this  about  him  would  be  to  ruin  my  own 
reputation." 

"No.  The  thing's  got  to  die,"  Ledyard  mused. 
"Die  at  its  birth." 

"  Die  in  my  girl's  heart !  Good  God !  Ledyard,  you 
ought  to  see  her  after  the  one  night!  It  wrings 


360  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

my  heart.  It  isn't  as  if  the  slander  had  killed  hei 
love  for  him.  It  hasn't;  it  has  strengthened  it.  'I 
must  bear  this  for  him  and  for  me,'  she  said,  looking 
at  me  with  her  mother's  eyes.  She  never  looked 
like  her  mother  before.  It's  broken  me  up.  What's 
the  world  coming  to,  when  women  get  the  bit  in 
their  teeth?" 

"There  are  times  when  all  women  look  alike," 
Ledyard  spoke  half  to  himself;  "I've  noticed  that." 
The  rest  of  Moffatt's  sentence  he  ignored. 

"Why,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  good,"  Moffatt 
blazed  away,  "did  you  send  that  redheaded  girl 
into  our  lives?  I  might  have  known  from  the  hour 
she  set  her  will  against  mine  that  she  was  no  good 
omen.  Things  I  haven't  crushed,  Ledyard,  have 
always  ended  by  giving  me  a  blow,  sooner  or  later. 
Think  of  her  coming  into  my  home  last  night  and 

daring "  The  words  ended  in  a  gulp.  "Let  me 

send  Margaret  to  you,"  pleaded  the  father  at  his 
wits'  end.  "Huntter  is  away.  Will  not  be  back 
until  to-morrow.  Perhaps  you  can  move  her.  You 
brought  her  into  the  world;  you  ought  to  try  and 
keep  her  here." 

At  four  Margaret  entered  Ledyard's  office.  She 
was  very  white,  very  self-possessed,  but  gently  smil- 
ing. 

"Dear  old  friend,"  she  said,  drawing  near  him  and 
taking  the  role  of  comforter  at  once.  "Do  not  think 
I  blame  you.  I  know  you  did  your  best  with  your 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   361 

blessed,  nigh-to  glasses  on,  but  we  younger  folks 
have  long  vision,  you  know.  Do  you  remember  how 
you  once  told  me  to  swallow  your  pills  without  biting 
them?  I  obeyed  you  for  a  long,  long  time;  but  I've 
bitten  this  one!  It's  bitter,  but  it  is  for  the  best. 
The  medicine  is  in  the  pills;  we  might  as  well  know." 

"See  here,  Margaret,  I'm  not  going  to  use  your 
father's  weapons.  I  only  ask  you  —  to  wait!  Do 
not  break  your  engagement;  let  me  see  Huntter.  Do 
not  speak  to  him  of  this.  I  can  explain,  and — " 
he  paused  —  "if  the  worse  comes  to  the  worst,  the 
wedding  can  be  postponed;  then  things  can  happen 
gradually." 

"No,"  Margaret  shook  her  head.  "This  is  his 
affair  and  mine,  and  our  love  lies  between  us.  I 
want  —  oh!  I  want  to  make  him  feel  as  I  do,  if  I 
can;  but  above  all  else  he  must  know  that  whatever 
I  do  is  done  in  love.  You  see,  I  cannot  hate  him 
now;  by  and  by  it  would  be  different  if  we  were  not 
just  to  each  other." 

"My  poor  girl!  Do  you  women  think  you  are 
going  to  be  happier,  the  world  better,  because  of  — 
things  like  this?  Men  have  thought  it  out!" 

"Alone,  yes.  And  women  have  let  you  bear  the 
burden  —  alone.  Happiness  is  —  not  all.  And  who 
can  tell  what  the  world  will  be  when  we  all  do  the 
work  God  sent  us  to  do?  I  know  this:  we  cannot 
push  our  responsibilities  off  on  any  one  else  with- 
out stumbling  across  them  sooner  or  later,  for  the 


362   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

overburdened  ones  cannot  carry  too  much,  or  for- 
ever!" 

Ledyard  expected  Travers  for  dinner,  but,  as  the 
time  drew  near,  he  felt  that  his  young  partner  would 
not  come.  At  six  a  note  was  handed  to  him: 

KINDEST  OF  FRIENDS: 

To-morrow,  or  soon,  I  will  come  to  you;  not  to-night. 
I  have  to  be  alone.  I  am  all  in  confusion.  I  can  see  only 
step  by  step,  and  must  follow  as  I  may.  Two  or  three 
things  stand  out  clear.  We  haven't,  we  men,  played  the 
game  fair,  though  God  knows  we  meant  to.  They  — 
she  and  such  women  as  my  girl  —  are  right!  Blindly, 
fumblingly  right.  They  are  seeking  to  square  themselves, 
and  we  have  no  business  to  curse  them  for  their  efforts. 

Lastly,  I  love  Priscilla  Glynn,  and  mean  to  have  her, 
even  at  the  expense  of  my  profession!  You  have  set  my 
feet  on  a  broad  path  and  promised  an  honourable  position. 
I  have  always  felt  that  to  try  and  follow  in  your  steps  was 
the  noblest  ambition  I  had.  I  know  now  that  I  could 
not  accomplish  this.  You  have  truth  and  conviction  to 
guide  and  uphold  you.  I  have  doubt.  I  must  work 
among  my  fellows  with  no  hint  of  distrust  as  to  my  own 
position.  Forgive  me!  Go,  if  you  will,  to  my  mother  — 
to  Helen.  She  will  need  you  —  after  she  knows.  You 
will,  perhaps,  understand  when  I  tell  you  that,  for  a  time 
at  least,  I  must  be  by  myself,  and  I  am  going  to  the  little 
town  where  my  own  mother  and  I,  long  ago,  lived  our 
strange  life  together.  She  seems  to  be  there,  waiting  for  me. 

Ledyard  ate  no  dinner  that  night;  he  seemed 
broken  and  ill;  he  pushed  dish  after  dish  aside,  and 
Anally  left  the  table  and  the  house. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    363 

Everything  had  failed  him.  All  his  life's  work 
and  hopes  rustled  past  him  like  dead  things  as  he 
walked  the  empty  streets. 

"Truth  and  conviction,"  he  muttered.  "Who  has 
them?  The  young  ass!  What  is  truth?  How  can  one 
be  convinced  ?  It's  all  bluff  and  a  doing  of  one's  best ! " 

And  then  he  reached  Helen  Travers's  house  and 
found  her  waiting  for  him. 

"I  have  a  —  a  note  from  Dick,"  she  said.  Led- 
yard  saw  that  she  had  been  crying. 

"Poor  boy!  He  has  gone  to  —  his  mother;  his 
real  mother.  We"  —  she  caught  her  breath  —  "we 
have,  somehow,  failed  him.  He  is  in  trouble." 

"I  wonder  —  why?"Ledyard  murmured.  Never 
had  his  voice  held  that  tone  before.  It  startled  even 
the  sad  woman. 

"We  have  tried  to  do  right  —  have  loved  him  so," 
she  faltered. 

"Perhaps  we  have  been  too  sure  of  ourselves,  our 
traditions.  Each  generation  has  its  own  ideals. 
We're  only  stepping-stones,  but  we  like  to  believe 
we're  the  —  end-all!" 

"That  may  be." 

Then  they  sat  with  bowed  heads  in  silence,  until 
Ledyard  spoke  again. 

"I'm  going  to  retire,  Helen.  Without  him,  work 
would  be  —  impossible.  His  empty  place  would  be 
a  silent  condemnation,  a  constant  reminder,  of —  mis- 
takes." 


364  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"If  he  leaves  me,  I  shall  close  this  house.  I  could 
not  live  —  without  him  here.  I  never  envied  his 
mother  before.  I  have  pitied,  condoned  her,  but 
to-night  I  envy  her  from  my  soul!" 

"Helen"  —  and  here  Ledyard  got  up  and  walked 
the  length  of  the  room  restlessly;  he  was  about  to 
put  his  last  hope  to  the  test  —  "Helen,  this  world 
is  —  too  new  for  us;  for  you  and  me.  We  belong 
back  where  the  light  is  not  so  strong  and  things  go 
slower!  We  get  —  blinded  and  breathless  and  con- 
fused. I  have  nothing  left,  nor  have  you.  Will  you 
come  with  me  to  that  crack  in  the  Alps,  as  Dick  used 
to  call  it,  and  let  me  —  love  you  ? " 

"Oh!     John  Ledyard!     What  a  man  you  are!" 

"Exactly!  What  a  man  I  am!  A  poor,  rough 
fool,  always  loving  what  was  best;  never  daring  to 
risk  anything  for  it.  I'm  tired  to  death " 

She  was  beside  him,  kneeling,  with  her  snow- 
touched  head  upon  his  knee. 

"So  am  I.  Tired,  tired!  I  could  not  do  without 
you.  I  have  leaned  on  you  far  too  long;  we  all  have. 
Now,  dear,  lean  on  me  for  the  rest  of  the  way." 

He  bent  his  grizzled  head  upon  hers  and  his 
eyes  had  the  look  of  prayer  that  Priscilla  once  dis- 
covered. 

"Dick  —  has  not  told  me  his  real  trouble,"  Helen 
faintly  said.  "I  know  it  is  somehow  connected  with 
a  —  nurse." 

"The  redheaded  one,"  Ledyard  put  in;  "a  regular 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   365 

little  marplot!"  Then  he  gave  that  gruff  laugh  of 
his  that  Helen  knew  to  be  a  signal  of  surrender. 

"It's  odd,"  he  went  on,  "how  one  can  admire  and 
respect  when  often  he  disapproves.  I  disapprove  of 
this  —  redheaded  girl,  but,  if  it  will  comfort  you  any, 
my  child,  I  will  tell  you  this:  Dick's  future,  in  her 
hands,  would  be  founded  on  —  on  everlasting  rock!" 

"Perhaps  —  she  won't  have  him!" 

"Helen"  —  and  Ledyard  caught  her  to  him  — 
"you  never  would  have  said  that  if  you  had  been 
Dick's  mother!" 

"Perhaps  — not!" 

"No.  You  and  I  have  only  played  second  fiddles, 
first  and  last;  but  second  fiddles  come  in  handy!" 

The  room  grew  dim  and  shadowy,  and  the  two 
in  the  western  window  clung  together. 

"Have  you  heard  —  John,  that  Margaret  MoflFatt 
has  broken  her  engagement  to  Clyde  Huntter?" 

"Yes.     Where  did  you  hear  it ? " 

"She  came  —  to  see  me;  wanted  to  know  how  I 
was.  She  was  very  beautiful  and  dear.  She  talked 
a  good  deal  about  that  —  that " 

"Redheaded  nurse?"  asked  Ledyard. 

"Yes.  I  couldn't  quite  see  any  connecting  link 
then,  but  you  know  Dick  did  go  to  that  Swiss  village 
last  summer.  I  fear  the  party  wasn't  properly  chap- 
eroned, for  'twas  there  he  met  —  the  nurse!" 

"It  —  was!"  grunted  Ledyard. 

"There  is  something  sadly  wrong  with  this  broken 


366   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

engagement  of  Margaret's,  but  I  imagine  no  one  will 
ever  know.  Girls  are  so  —  so  different  from  what 
they  used  to  be." 

"Yes,"  but  a  tone  of  doubt  was  in  Ledyard's 
voice.  Presently  he  said:  "Since  Dick  has  left,  or 
may  leave,  the  profession,  I  suppose  he'll  take  to 
writing.  He's  always  told  me  that  when  he  could 
afford  to,  he'd  like  to  cut  the  traces  and  wollop  the 
race  with  his  pen.  Many  doctors  would  like  to  do 
that.  A  gag  and  a  chain  and  ball  are  not  what  they're 
cracked  up  to  be.  The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  pill, 
sometimes,  but  it  often  eliminates  the  butter  from 
the  bread." 

Helen  caught  at  the  only  part  of  this  speech  that 
she  understood. 

"There's  the  little  income  I'm  living  on,"  she  said; 
"it's  Dick's  father's.  I  wish  —  you'd  let  me  give  it 
to  him  —  now.  I  am  old-fashioned  enough  to  want 
to  live  on  my  husband's  money." 

"Exactly!"  Ledyard  drew  her  closer;  "quite  the 
proper  feeling.  It  can  be  easily  arranged." 

And  while  they  sat  in  the  gathering  gloom,  Trav- 
ers  was  wending  his  way  up  a  village  street,  and  won- 
dering that  he  found  things  so  little  changed. 

While  his  heart  grew  heavier,  his  steps  hastened, 
and  he  felt  like  a  small  boy  again  —  a  boy  afraid  of 
the  dark,  afraid  of  the  mystery  of  night  —  alone! 
The  boy  of  the  past  had  always  known  a  heavy  heart, 
too,  and  that  added  reality  to  the  touch. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    367 

There  stood  the  old  cottage  with  a  sign  "To  Let" 
swinging  from  the  porch.  Had  no  one  lived  there 
since  they,  he  and  the  pretty  creature  he  called 
mother,  had  gone  away? 

There  had  been  workmen  in  the  house,  evidently. 
They  had  carelessly  left  the  outer  door  open  and  a 
box  of  tools  in  the  living-room.  Travers  went  in 
and  sat  down  upon  the  chest,  closed  his  eyes,  and 
gave  himself  up  to  his  sad  mood.  Clearly  he  seemed 
to  hear  the  low,  sweet  voice : 

"Little  son,  is  that  you?"  Yes,  it  was  surely  he! 
"Come  home  to  —  to  mother?  Tired,  dear?"  In- 
deed he  was  tired  —  tired  to  the  verge  of  exhaustion. 
"Suppose  —  suppose  we  have  a  story?  Come,  little 
son!  It  shall  be  a  story  of  a  fine,  golden-haired  prin- 
cess who  loves  and  loves,  but  —  is  very,  very  wise. 
And  you  are  to  be  the  prince  who  is  wise,  too.  If 
you  are  not  both  very  wise  there  will  be  trouble; 
and  of  course  princesses  and  princes  do  not  have 
trouble."  The  old,  foolish  memory  ran  on  with  its 
deeper  truth  breaking  in  upon  the  heart  and  soul  of 
the  man  in  the  haunted  room. 

Then  Travers  spoke  aloud : 

"Mother,  I  wrill  make  no  mistake  if  I  can  help  it, 
and  as  God  hears  me,  I  will  not  cheat  love.  As  far 
as  lies  in  me,  I  will  play  fair  for  her  sake  —  and 
yours!" 

When  he  uncovered  his  eyes  he  almost  expected  to 
see  a  creaky  little  rocker  and  a  sleepy  boy  resting 


368   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

on  the  breast  of  a  woman  so  beautiful  that  it  was  no 
wonder  many  had  loved  her. 

"Poor,  little,  long-ago  mother!" 

Then  he  thought  of  Helen  and  her  strong  purpose 
in  life,  her  devotion  and  sacrifice. 

"I  must  go  to  her!"  he  cried  resolutely.  "I  owe 
her  —  much,  much ! " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  pines  and  the  hemlocks  stood  out  sharply 
against  a  pink,  throbbing  sky  in  which  the 
stars  still  shone  faintly  but  brilliantly.      It 
was  five  o'clock  of  a  dim  morning,  and  no  one  was 
astir  in  the  In-Place  as  the  little  steamer  indolently 
turned  from  the  Big  Bayinto  the  Channel  and  headed 
for  the  wharf. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  seemed  stirring,  and  the  still- 
ness was  unbroken  except  by  the  panting  of  the 
engines. 

Priscilla  Glenn  stood  near  the  gangway  of  the  boat. 
Now  that  she  had  left  all  her  beautiful  love  and  life, 
she  was  eager  to  hide,  like  a  hurt  and  bruised  thing, 
in  the  old,  familiar  home.  Leaning  her  poor,  tired 
head  against  the  post  near  her,  she  thought  of  the 
desolate  wreck  behind,  and  the  tears  came  to  the 
deep,  true  eyes. 

"I  could  have  done  —  nothing  else!"  she  mur- 
mured, as  if  to  comfort  the  sad  thing  she  was.  "It 
had  to  be!  Margaret  knew  that;  she  understood. 
By  now  she  is  as  bereft  as  I;  poor,  dear  love!  Oh! 
it  seems,  just  sometimes  it  seems,  like  an  army  of 
men  on  one  side  and  all  of  us  women  on  the  other. 

369 


370  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

Between  us  lies  the  great  battlefield,  and  they,  the 
men,  are  trying  to  fight  alone  —  fight  our  battle  as 
well  as  theirs.  And  —  they  cannot!  they  cannot!" 

Just  then  the  boat  touched  the  wharf,  and  a  sleepy 
man,  a  stranger  to  Priscilla,  materialized  and  looked 
at  her  queerly. 

"For  the  Lodge?"  he  grunted. 

"Yes  —  I  suppose  so.     Yes,  the  Lodge." 

"Up  yonder."  Then  he  turned  to  the  freight. 
Once  she  was  on  the  Green,  Priscilla  paused  and 
looked  about. 

"For  which?"  Then  she  smiled  a  ghost  of  her 
bright,  sunny  smile. 

"My  father's  doors  are  shut  to  me,"  she  sighed; 
"I  cannot  go  to  the  Lodge,  yet!  I  must  go  — 

to Something  touched  her  hand,  and  she 

looked  down.  It  was  Farwell's  dog,  the  old  one,  the 
one  who  used  to  play  with  Priscilla  when  she  was  a 
little  girl. 

"You  dear!"  she  cried,  dropping  beside  him; 
"You've  come  to  show  me  the  way.  Beg,  Tony,  beg 
like  a  good  fellow.  I  have  a  bit  of  cake  for  you!" 

Clumsily,  heavily,  the  old  collie  tried  to  respond, 
but  of  late  he  had  been  excused  from  acting;  and  he 
was  old,  old. 

"Then  take  it,  Tony,  take  it  without  pay.  That 
comes  of  being  a  doggie.  You  ought  to  be  grateful 
that  you  are  a  dog,  and  —  need  not  pay!" 

It  was  clear  to  her  now  that  Farwell's  home  must 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   371 

be  her  first  shelter,  and  taking  up  her  suit-case  she 
passed  over  the  Green  and  took  the  path  leading  to 
the  master's  house. 

Some  one  had  been  before  her.  Some  one  who  had 
swept  the  hearth,  lighted  a  fire,  and  set  the  breakfast 
table.  Pine  had  taken  Toky's  place  and  was  vying 
with  that  deposed  oriental  in  whole-souled  service. 

Priscilla  pushed  the  ever-unlatched  door  open  and 
went  inside.  The  bare  living-room  had  been  trans- 
formed. John  Boswell  had  transferred  the  comfort, 
without  the  needless  luxury,  from  the  town  home  to 
the  In-Place  —  books,  pictures,  rugs,  the  winged 
chair  and  an  equally  easy  one  across  the  hearth. 
And,  yes,  there  was  her  own  small  rocker  close  by, 
as  if,  in  their  detachment,  they  still  remembered  her 
and  missed  her  and  were  —  ready  for  her  coming! 
Priscilla  noiselessly  took  off  her  wraps  and  sat  down, 
glad  to  rest  again  in  the  welcoming  chair. 

She  swayed  back  and  forth,  her  closely  folded 
arms  across  her  fast-beating  heart.  She  kept  her 
face  turned  toward  the  door  through  which  she  knew 
the  men  would  enter.  She  struggled  for  control, 
for  a  manner  which  would  disarm  their  shock  at 
seeing  her;  but  never  in  her  life  had  she  felt  more 
defeated,  more  helplessly  at  bay. 

The  early  morning  light,  streaming  through  the 
broad  eastern  window,  struck  full  across  her  where 
she  sat  in  the  low  rocker;  and  so  Boswell  and  Far- 
well  came  upon  her.  They  stopped  short  on  the 


372   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

threshold  and  each,  in  his  way,  sought  to  account 
for  the  apparition.  The  brave  smile  upon  Priscilla's 
face  broke  and  fled  miserably. 

"I  —  I've  been  doshed!"  she  cried  in  a  last  effort 
at  bravado,  and  then,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  she  wept  hysterically,  repeating  again  and 
again,  "I've  come  home,  come  home  —  to  —  no 
home!" 

They  were  beside  her  at  once.  BoswelPs  hand 
rested  on  the  bowed  head;  Farwell's  on  the  back  of 
her  chair. 

"Dear,  bright  Butterfly!"  whispered  Boswell  com- 
fortingly; "it  has  come  to  grief  in  the  Garden." 

"Oh!  I  wanted  to  learn,  and  oh!  Master  Farwell, 
I  said  I  was  willing  to  suffer,  and  I  have,  I  have!" 

Then  she  looked  up  and  her  unflinching  courage 
returned. 

"I  was  tired!"  she  moaned;  "tired  and  hungry." 

"After  breakfast  you  will  explain  —  only  as 
much  as  you  choose,  child."  This  from  Farwell. 
"Make  the  toast  for  us,  Priscilla.  I  remember  how 
you  used  to  brown  it  without  blackening  it.  Boswell 
always  gets  dreaming  on  the  second  side  of  the  slice." 

After  the  strange  meal  Priscilla  told  very  little, 
but  both  men  read  volumes  in  her  pale,  thin  face 
and  understanding  eyes. 

"Damn  them!"  thought  Farwell;  "they  have 
taken  it  out  of  her.  I  knew  they  would;  but  they 
have  not  conquered  her!" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    373 

Boswell  thoughtfully  considered  her  when  her  eyes 
were  turned  from  him. 

"She  learned,"  he  thought;  "suffered  and  learned; 
but  when  she  gets  her  breath  she  will  go  back.  The 
In-Place  cannot  hold  her." 

Then  they  told  her  of  the  Kenmore  folk. 

"Your  father  has  had  a  stroke,  Priscilla,"  Farwell 
said  in  reply  to  her  question;  "it  has  made  him  blind. 
Long  Jean  cares  for  him.  He  will  have  no  other 
near  him." 

"And  —  he  never  wants  me?"  Priscilla  whispered. 

"No;  but  he  needs  you!"  Boswell  muttered. 
"You  must  let  your  velvety  wings  brush  his  dark 
life;  the  touch  will  comfort  him." 

"And  old  Jerry?" 

Farwell  leaned  forward  to  poke  the  fire. 

"Old  Jerry,"  said  he,  "has  gone  mildly  —  mad. 
All  day  he  sits  dressed  in  his  best,  ready  to  start  for 
Jerry-Jo's.  He  fancies  that  scapegoat  of  his  has  a 
mansion  and  fortune,  and  is  expecting  his  arrival. 
He  amuses  himself  by  packing  and  unpacking  a 
mangy  old  carpet-bag.  Mary  McAdam  looks  after 
him  and  the  village  youngsters  play  with  him.  It's 
rather  a  happy  ending,  after  all." 

Many  a  time  after  that  Priscilla  packed  and  un- 
packed the  old  carpet-bag,  while  Jerry  rambled  on 
of  his  great  and  splendid  lad  to  the  "Miss  from  the 
States." 

"It's  weak  I  am  to-day,  ma'am,"  he  would  say, 


374  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"but  to-morrow,  to-morrow!  'Tis  the  Secret  Por- 
tage I'll  make  for;  the  Fox  is  a  bit  too  tricky  for  my 
boat  —  a  fine  boat,  ma'am.  I'm  thinking  the  Big 
Bay  may  be  a  trifle  rough,  but  the  boat's  a  staunch 
one.  Jerry-Jo's  expecting  me;  but  he'll  understand." 

"I  am  sure  he  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  sir.'*  Pris- 
cilla  learned  to  play  the  sad  game.  The  children 
taught  her  and  loved  her,  and  all  the  quiet  village 
kept  her  secret.  Mary  McAdam  claimed  her,  but 
Priscilla  clung  to  the  two  men  who  meant  the  only 
comfort  she  could  know.  They  never  questioned 
her;  never  intruded  upon  her  sad,  and  often  pitiful, 
reserve;  but  they  yearned  over  her  and  cheered  her 
as  best  they  could. 

Priscilla's  visits  to  her  father's  house  were  often 
dramatic.  At  first  the  sound  of  her  voice  disturbed 
and  excited  the  blind  man  pathetically. 

"Eh?  eh?"  he  stormed,  holding  to  Long  Jean's 
hand;  "who  comes  in  my  door?" 

"Oh!  a  lass  —  from  the  States,"  Jean  replied  with 
a  reassuring  pat  on  the  bony  shoulder. 

"From  the  States?"  suspiciously. 

"Aye.  She's  taken  training  in  one  of  them  big 
hospitables,  and  is  a  friend  to  the  crooked  gentleman 
who  bides  with  Master  Farwell.  The  lass  comes 
to  give  me  lessons  in  my  trade."  Jean  had  a  touch 
of  humour. 

"I'll  have  no  fandangoing  with  me!"  asserted 
Glenn,  settling  back  in  his  chair.  "Old  ways  are 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    375 

good  enough  for  me,  Jean,  and  remember  that,  if 
you  value  your  place.  I  want  no  woman  about  me 
who  has  notions  different  from  what  God  Almighty 
meant  her  to  have.  Laming  is  woman's  curse. 
Give  'em  laming,  I've  always  held,  and  you've  headed 
'em  for  perdition." 

But  Priscilla  won  him  gradually,  after  he  had  be- 
come accustomed  to  her  disturbing  voice.  He  would 
not  have  her  touch  him  physically.  She  seemed 
to  rouse  in  him  a  strange  unrest  when  she  came  near 
him,  but  eventually  he  accepted  her  as  a  diversion 
and  utilized  her  for  his  own  hidden  need. 

One  day,  with  a  hint  of  spring  in  the  air,  he  reached 
out  a  lean  hand  toward  the  window  near  which  Jean 
had  placed  him,  and  said: 

"Woman,  are  you  here?" 

"Jean's  gone  —  erranding."  The  old  mother-word 
attracted  Glenn's  attention. 

"Eh?"  he  questioned. 

"To  the  village.  I'm  waiting  until  she  comes 
back.  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  sir?" 

"No.     Is  —  is  it  a  sunny  day?" 

"Glorious.  The  ice  is  melting  now  —  in  the 
shady  places." 

"I  thought  I  felt  the  warmth.  'Tis  cold  and  drear 
sitting  forever  in  darkness." 

"I  am  sure  it  must  be  —  terrible." 

But  Glenn  resented  pity. 

*God'swill  is  never  terrible!  "he  flungback.   Then: 


376  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Are  you  one  —  who  got  laming?" 

"I  —  learned  to  read,  sir." 

"And  much  —  good  it's  done  you  —  the  laming! 
I  warrant  ye'd  be  better  off  without  it.  Women 
are.  Good  women  are  content  with  God's  way.  My 
wife  was.  Always  willing,  was  she,  to  follow.  God 
was  enough  for  her  —  God  and  me!" 

"I  wonder!" 

"Eh?    What  was  that?" 

"Nothing,  sir.     May  I  read  to  you?" 

"Is  the  Book  there?" 

"Right  here  on  the  stand.     What  shall  I  read?" 

"There's  one  verse  as  haunts  me  at  times;  find 
it  in  Acts  --  the  seventeenth,  I  think  —  and  along 
about  the  twenty-third  verse.  I  used  to  conjure 
what  it  might  mean  more  than  was  good  for  me. 
It  haunts  me  now,  though  I  ain't  doubting  but  what 
the  meaning  will  come  to  me,  some  day.  Them  as 
sits  in  darkness  often  gets  spiritual  leadings." 

And  Priscilla  read: 

"For  as  I  passed  by,  and  beheld  your  devotions, 
I  found  an  altar  with  this  inscription,  To  the  Un- 
known God.  Whom,  therefore,  ye  ignorantly  wor- 
ship, him  I  declare  unto  you?' 

A  silence  fell  between  the  old,  blind  father  and  the 
stranger-girl  looking  yearningly  into  his  face. 

"I've  conned  it  this  way  and  that,"  Glenn  said, 
with  his  oratorical  manner  claiming  him.  "It  might 
be  that  some  worship  an  Unknown  God  and  the 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   377 

true  God  might  pass  by  and  set  things  straight. 
There  be  altars  and  altars,  and  sometimes  even  my 
God  seems " 

"An  Unknown  God?"  Priscilla  asked  tenderly. 
"That  must  be  such  a  lonely  feeling." 

"No!"  almost  shrieked  Nathaniel,  as  if  the  sug- 
gestion insulted  him;  "no!  The  true  God  declared 
himself  to  me  long  since.  But  what  do  you  make 
of  it,  young  Miss?" 

Priscilla  turned  her  eyes  to  the  open,  free  outer 
world,  where  the  sunshine  was  and  the  stirring  of 
spring. 

"Sometimes,"  she  whispered,  "I  love  to  think  of 
God  coming  down  from  all  the  shrines  and  altars 
of  the  world,  and  walking  with  his  children  —  in  the 
Garden!  They  need  him  so.  I  do  not  like  altars 
or  shrines;  the  Garden  is  the  holiest  place  for  God 
to  be!" 

"Thou  blasphemer!"  Glenn  struggled  to  an  up- 
right position  and  his  sightless  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
his  child.  "Wouldst  thou  desecrate  the  holy  of 
holies,  the  altars  of  the  living  God?" 

"If  he  is  a  living  God  he  will  not  stay  upon  an 
altar;  he  will  come  and  walk  with  his  children!" 

The  tone  of  the  absorbed  voice  reached  where  here- 
tofore it  had  never  touched. 

"I'll  have  none  of  thee!"  commanded  Nathaniel, 
his  face  dangerously  purple.  "Your  words  are  of 
the  —  the  devil!  Leave  me!  leave  me!"  And  for 


378  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

the  second  time  Priscilla  was  ordered  from  her 
father's  house. 

It  did  not  matter.  It  was  all  so  useless,  and  the 
future  was  so  blank.  Still,  to  go  back  to  Master 
Farwell's  just  then  was  impossible,  and  Priscilla 
turned  toward  the  wood  road  leading  to  the  Far 
Hill  Place.  She  had  no  plan,  no  purpose.  She 
was  drifting,  drifting,  and  could  not  see  her  way, 
The  bright  sun  touched  her  comfortingly.  In  the 
shadow  it  was  chilly;  but  the  red  rock  was  warm 
and  luring.  And  so  she  came  to  the  open  space 
and  the  almost  forgotten  shrine  where  once  she  had 
raised  her  Strange  God. 

She  sat  down  upon  a  fallen  tree  and  looked  over 
the  little,  many-islanded  bay  to  the  Secret  Portage. 
Through  that  she  seemed  to  pass  yearningly,  and 
her  eyes  grew  large  and  strained.  Then  she  stretched 
out  her  arms,  her  young,  empty  arms. 

"My  Garden!"  she  called;  "my  Garden,  my  dear, 
dear  love  and  Margaret's  God!  Margaret's  and 
mine!" 

And  so  she  sat  for  a  while  longer.  Then,  because 
the  chill  air  crept  closer  and  closer,  she  arose  and 
faced  the  old,  bleached  skull.  The  winters  had 
killed  the  sheltering  vines  that  once  hid  it  from*  all 
eyes  but  hers.  It  stood  bare  and  hideous,  as  if 
demanding  that  she  again  worship  it.  A  frenzy 
overpowered  Priscilla.  That  whitened,  dead  thing 
brought  back  memories  that  hurt  and  stung  by  their 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS    379 

very  sweetness.  She  rushed  to  the  spot  and  seized 
the  forked  stick  upon  which  the  skull  rested. 

"This  for  all  —  Unknown  Gods!"  she  cried  in 
breathless  passion,  and  dashed  the  skull  to  the 
ground.  "And  this!  and  this!"  She  trampled  it. 
"They  shall  not  keep  you  upon  shrines!  They  shall 
not  keep  you  hidden  from  all  in  the  Garden!"  With 
that  she  took  a  handful  of  the  shattered  god  and 
flung  it  far  and  wide,  with  her  blazing  eyes  fixed  on 
the  Secret  Portage. 

Standing  so,  she  looked  like  a  priestess  of  old  de- 
fying all  falseness  and  traditional  wrong. 

Among  the  trees  Richard  Travers  gazed  upon  the 
scene  with  a  kind  of  horror  gripping  him. 

He  was  not  a  superstitious  man,  but  he  was  a  worn 
and  weary  one,  and  he  had  come  to  the  Far  Hill 
Place,  two  days  before,  because,  after  much  search- 
ing, he  had  failed  to  find  Priscilla  Glynn,  and  his  love 
was  hurt  and  desperate.  He  had  wanted  to  hide 
and  suffer  where  no  eyes  could  penetrate.  But  he 
had  discovered  that  for  a  man  to  return  to  his  boy- 
hood was  but  to  undergo  the  torture  of  those  who 
are  haunted  by  lost  spirits.  It  had  been  damnable 
-that  dreary,  dismantled  house  back  on  the  hill! 
The  nights  had  maddened  him  and  left  him  unable 
to  cope  intelligently  with  the  days.  Nothing  com- 
forting had  been  there.  The  pale  boy  he  once  had 
been  taunted  him  with  memories  of  lowered  ideals, 
unfilled  promise  and  purpose.  He  had  travelled  a 


38o  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

long  distance  from  the  Far  Hill  Place,  and  he  was  go- 
ing back  to  fight  it  out  —  somehow,  somewhere.  He 
would  stop  at  Master  Farwell's  and  then  take  the 
night  steamer  for  the  old  battle-ground.  And  just 
at  that  moment,  in  the  open  space,  he  saw  the 
strange  sight  that  stopped  his  breath  and  heart  for 
an  instant. 

Of  course  his  wornout  senses  were  being  tricked. 
He  had  known  of  such  cases,  and  was  now  thor- 
oughly alarmed.  Like  a  man  in  delirium,  he  walked 
into  the  open  and  confronted  the  fascinated  gaze  of 
the  girl  for  whom  he  had  been  searching  for  weeks. 

"How  came  —  you  here  ? "  he  asked  in  a  voice  from 
which  normal  emotions  were  eliminated. 

"And  —  you ? "  she  echoed. 

They  came  a  step  nearer,  their  hands  outstretched 
in  a  poor,  blind  groping  for  solution  and  reality. 

"Why  —  I  am  —  I  meant  to  tell  you  —  some  day. 
I  am  Priscilla  Glenn  —  not  Glynn  —  Priscilla  Glenn 
of — Lonely  Farm." 

"My  God!"  Travers  came  a  step  nearer,  his 
face  set  and  grim.  "Of  course!  I  see  it  now  —  the 
dance!  Don't  you  remember?  The  dance  at  the 
Swiss  village?" 

"And  the  —  the  tune  that  made  me  cry.  Who  — 

are How  did  you  know  that  tune?  How  did 

you  know  —  the  In-Place?" 

Their  hands  touched  and  clung  now,  desperately. 
Together  they  must  find  their  way  out. 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   381 

"I  am  —  I  was  —  the  boy  of  the  Far  Hill  Place. 
I  played  for  you  —  once  —  to  dance  —  right  here!'* 

Something  seemed  snapping  in  Priscilla's  brain. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  breathing  hard  and  quick. 
"I  remember  now:  you  taught  me  music,  and  —  and 
you  taught  me  —  love,  but  you  told  me  not  to  let 
them  kill  my  ideal;  and,  oh!  I  haven't!  I  haven't!" 

She  shut  her  eyes  and  reeled  forward.  She  did 
not  faint,  but  for  a  moment  her  senses  refused  to  ac- 
cept impressions. 

Travers  knelt  and  caught  her  to  him  as  she  fell. 
Her  dear  head  was  upon  his  knee  once  more,  and  he 
pressed  his  lips  to  the  wonderful  hair  from  which 
the  little  hat  had  fallen.  Then  her  eyes  opened,  but 
her  lips  trembled. 

"You  —  came  all  the  way  from  the  Place  Beyond 
the  Winds,  little  girl,  to  show  me  my  ideal  again;  to 
strike  your  blow  —  for  women."  Travers  was  whis- 
pering. 

"Your  ideal?  But  no,  dear  love.  Your  ideal  is 
back  there  —  in  the  Garden." 

'"And   yours?     I  —  I    do   not   understand,    Pris- 
cilla.     I  am  still  dazed.     What  Garden?" 

"The  big  world,  my  dear  man;  your  world." 

"My  blessed  child!  Do  not  look  like  that.  Do 
you  think  I'm  going  back  without  you?  I've  been 
looking  for  —  Priscilla  Glynn  —  fool  that  I  was! 
And  you  were  —  great  heavens!  You  were  the 
little  nurse  in  St.  Albans!" 


382   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"Yes  —  and  you  and  I  —  stood  by  Jerry- Jo  Mo 
Alpin's  bed  —  you  and  I!  That  was  his  secret." 

"Priscilla,  what  do  you  mean?" 

Then  she  told  him,  clinging  to  him,  fearing  that  he 
might  fall  from  her  hold  as  she  had  once  fallen  from 
his,  on  the  mountain  across  the  sea. 

"And  you  danced  before  my  eyes  as  only  one 
woman  on  earth  can  dance  —  and  I  did  not  know! 
Tricked  by  a  name  and  —  and  the  change  in  me! 
You  were  always  the  same  —  the  flame-spirit  that 
I  first  saw  —  here!" 

"And  you  played — that  tune,  and  you  were  di- 
vinely good;  and  I  —  I  did  not  know." 

"But  we  drifted  straight  to  each  other,  my  girl!" 

"Only  — to  part." 

"To  part?  Never!  It's  past  the  Dreamer's  Rock 
for  us,  my  sweet,  and  out  to  the  open  sea.  We'll 
slip  our  moorings  to-night,  and  send  word  after!  I 
must  have  you,  and  at  once.  I  know  what  it  means  to 
see  you  escaping  my  hold.  Flame-spirits  are  elusive." 

"And  —  and  Margaret?" 

"She  —  needs  you.  A  fortnight  ago  I  saw  her, 
and  this  is  what  she  said,  smiling  her  old,  brave 
smile:  'I  think  I  could  bear  it  better  if  her  dear, 
shining  head  was  in  sight.  Greater  love  hath  no 
woman!  Find  her  and  bring  her  back!*  That's 
your  place,  my  sweet.  Out  there  where  the  fight  is 
on.  Such  as  you  can  show  us  —  that  'tis  no  fight 
between  men  and  women,  but  one  against  igno- 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   383 

ranee  and  tradition.  You'll  trust  yourself  to  me, 
dear  girl?" 

"I  did  — long  ago!" 

"To  think"  —  Travers  was  gaining  control  of 
himself;  the  shock,  the  readjustment,  had  been  so 
sudden  that  sensation  returned  slowly  —  "to  think, 
dear  blunderer,  of  your  coming  among  us  all,  striking 
your  blow,  and  then  rushing  to  your  In-Place!  But 
love  is  mightier  than  thou;  mightier  than  all  else!" 

"Not  mightier  than  honour  —  such  honour  as 
Margaret  knows!"  Then  fiercely:  "What  right  have 
I  to  my  —  joy,  when  she " 

"She  told  me  that  only  by  your  happiness  being 
consummated  could  she  hope  for  peace." 

Travers's  voice  was  low  and  reverent. 

"What  —  a  girl  she  is!"  Priscilla  faltered. 

"The  All  Woman." 

"Yes,  the  All  Woman." 

The  sun  began  to  drop  behind  the  tall  hemlocks. 
Priscilla  shivered  in  the  arms  that  held  her. 

"Little  girl,  I  wish  I  could  wrap  you  in  the  old 
red  cape  you  wore  once,  before  the  shrine." 

"It  is  gone  now,  like  the  shrine.  Oh!  my  love,  my 
love,  to  think  of  the  Garden  makes  me  live  again." 
The  fancy  caught  Travers's  imagination. 

"The  Garden!" 

'Twas  a  day  for  dreamy  wandering,  now  that  they 
bad  come  to  a  cleared  space  from  which  they  could 
see  light. 


384  THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

"The  Garden,  with  its  flowers  and  weeds/* 

"And  its  men  and  women!"  added  Priscilla,  her 
eyes  full  of  gladness.  "Oh!  long  ago,  I  told  Master 
Farwell  that  I  felt  Kenmore  was  only  my  stopping- 
place;  I  feel  it  now  so  surely/* 

"Yes,  my  sweet,  but  you  and  I  will  return  here  to 
polish  our  ideals  and  catch  our  breaths/* 

"In  the  Place  Beyond  the  Winds,  dear  man?'* 

"Exactly!  Those  old  Indians  had  a  genius  for 
names." 

"And  in  the  Garden  —  what  are  we  to  do?'* 
Priscilla  asked,  her  eyes  growing  more  practical. 
"They  will  have  none  of — Priscilla  Glynn,  you 
know.  And  you,  dear  heart,  what  will  they  do  to 
you,  now  that  you  have  defied  their  code?" 

"Priscilla  Glynn  has  done  her  best  and  is  —  gone! 
There  will  be  a  Priscilla  Travers  with  many  a  stern 
duty  before  her." 

"Yes,  but  you?" 

"I  shall  try  to  keep  your  golden  head  in  sight, 
little  girl!  For  the  rest  —  I  have  a  small  income  — 
my  father's.  I  must  tell  you  about  him  and  my 
mother,  some  day;  and  I  shall  write  —  write;  and 
men  and  women  may  read  what  they  might  not  be 
willing  to  listen  to." 

"I  see!  And  oh!  how  rich  and  bright  the  way  on 
ahead  looks!  Just  when  I  thought  the  clouds  were 
crushing  me,  they  opened  and  I  saw " 

"What,  Priscilla?" 


THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS   385 

"You!" 

"And  now,"  Travers  got^  upon  his  feet  and  drew 
1  er  up;  "do  you  know  what  is  going  to  happen?" 

"Can  anything  more  happen  to-day?" 

"We  are  going  to  Master  Farwell's,  you  and 
I.  We  are  going  to  take  him  with  us  to  the  little 
chapel  down  the  Channel;  there  we'll  leave  Pris- 
cilla  Glenn,  and,  in  her  place,  bring  Priscilla  Travers 
forth." 

The  colour  rose  to  the  thin,  radiant  face. 

"And  may  we  take  John  Boswell,  too?" 

"Boswell?     Is  he  here?" 

"Yes,  with  my  Master  Farwell." 

Travers  rapidly  put  loose  ends  of  the  past  to- 
gether, then  exclaimed: 

"God  bless  him;  God  bless  Master  Farwell!" 

"I  only  know"  —  Priscilla's  eyes  were  dim  —  "I 
only  know  —  they  are  good  men  —  both ! " 

"Yes,  both!  And  to-night,"  Travers  came  back 
to  the  present,  "I  will  take  my  wife  away  with  me 
on  the  steamer." 

"A  poor,  vagabond  wife.  Nothing  but  a  heart 
full  of  love  —  as  baggage." 

"The  Garden  is  a  rich  place,  my  love." 

"And  one  can  get  so  much  for  so  little  there." 
Priscilla  meant  to  hold  to  her  dear  old  joke. 

"And  so  little  —  for  so  much!" 

"That's  not  the  language  of  the  Garden,  good 
man!" 


3 86   THE  PLACE  BEYOND  THE  WINDS 

It  was  so  easy  to  play,  now  that  Travers  was  lead- 
ing the  way  from  the  wrecked  shrine. 

"You  are  right,  my  girl!"  Then  Travers  stopped 
and  faced  her,  his  eyes  glowing  with  love  and  cour- 
age. "And  to-morrow  —  is  not  yet  touched !"  he 
said. 


THE    END 


STORIES  OF  RARE  CHARM  BY 

GENE   STRATTQN-PORTER 

May  bs  ha<  whersvar  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Cresset  &  Dimlsp's  Hrt. 

MICHAEL  O'HALLORAN.      Illustrated  by  Frances  Rogers. 

Michael  is  a  quick-witted  little  Irish  newsboy ,  living  in  Northern 
Indiana.     He  adopts  a  deserted  little  girl,  a  cripple.     He  also  as- 
sumes the  responsibility  of  leading  the  entire  rural  community  up- 
ward and  onward, 
LADDIE.     Illustrated  by  Herman  Pfeifer. 

This  is  a  bright,  cheery  tale  with  the  scenes  laid  in  Indiana.  The 
story  ia  told  by  Little  Sister,  the  youngest  member  of  a  large  family, 
but  it  is  concerned  not  so  much  with  childish  doings  as  with  the  love 
affairs  of  older  members  of  the  family.  Chief  among  them  is  that 
of  Laddie  and  the  Princess,  an  English  girl  who  has  come  to  live  in 
the  neighborhood  and  about  whose  family  there  hangs  a  mystery. 
THE  HARVESTER.  Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs. 

"The  Harvester,"  is  a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  and  if  the 
book  had  nothing  in  it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man  it  would 
be  notable.     But  when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine  Woods," 
there  begins  a  romance  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 
FRECKLES.     Illustrated. 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  In 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life  ;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp  ;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality  ;  and  his 
love-story  with  "  The  Angel "  are  full  of  real  sentiment, 
A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST.  Illustrated. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods ;  a  buoyant,  loveable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  ft  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things ;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by 
the  sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 
AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW.  Illustrations  in  colors. 

The  scene  of  this  charming  love  story  is  laid  in  Central  Indiana. 
The  story  Is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self-sacrificing 
love.     The  novel  is  brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of 
nature,  and  its  pathos  and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 
THE  SONG  OF  THE  CARDINAL.     Profusely  illustrated. 

A  love  ideal  of  the  Cardinal  bird  and  his  mate,  told  with  delicacy 
and  humor. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  YORK 


KATHLEEN  NORRIS1   STORIES 

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MOTHER.    Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  book  has  a  fairy-story  touch,  'counterbalanced  by 
the  sturdy  reality  of  struggle,  sacrifice,  and  resulting  peace 
and  power  of  a  mother's  experiences. 

SATURDAY'S  CHILD. 
Frontispiece  by  F.  Graham  Cootes. 

Out  on  the  Pacific  coast  a  normal  girl,  obscure  and  lovely, 
makes  a'  quest  for  happiness.  She  passes  through  three 
stages — poverty,  wealth  and  service — and  works  out  a 
creditable  salvation. 

THE  RICH  MRS.  BURGOYNE. 
Illustrated  by  Lucius  H.  Hitchcock. 

The  story  of  a  sensible  woman  who  keeps  within  her 
means,  refuses  to  be  swamped  by  social  engagements,  lives 
a  normal  human  life  of  varied  interests,  and  has  her  own 
romance. 

THE  STORY  OF  JULIA  PAGE. 
Frontispiece  by  Allan  Gilbert. 

How  Julia  Page,  reared  in  rather  unpromising  surround- 
ings, lifted  herself  through  sheer  determination  to  a  higher 
plane  of  life. 

THE  HEART  OF  RACHAEL. 
Frontispiece  by  Charles  E.  Chambers. 

Rachael  is  called  upon  to  solve  many  problems,  and  in 
working  out  these,  there  is  shown  the  beauty  and  strength 
of  soul  of  one  of  fiction's  most  appealing  characters. 

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BOOTH     TARKINGTON'S 
NOVELS 

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SEVENTEEN.    Illustrated  by  Arthur.William  Brown. 

No  one  but  the  creator  of  Penrod  could  have  portrayed 
the  immortal  young  people  of  this  story.  Its  humor  is  irre- 
sistible and  reminiscent  of  the  tune  when  the  reader  was 
Seventeen. 

PENROD.    Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant. 

This  is  a  picture  of  a  boy's  heart,  full  of  the  lovable,  hu- 
morous, tragic  things  which  are  locked  secrets  to  most  older 
folks.  It  is  a  finished,  exquisite  work. 

PENROD  AND  SAM.  Illustrated  by  Worth  Brehm. 

Like  "  Penrod "  and  "  Seventeen,"  this  book  contains 
some  remarkable  phases  of  real  boyhood  and  some  of  the  best 
stories  of  juvenile  prankishness  that  have  ever  been  written. 

THE  TURMOIL.    Illustrated  by  C.  E.  Chambers. 

Bibbs  Sheridan  is  a  dreamy,  imaginative  youth,  who  re- 
volts against  his  father's  plans  for  him  to  be  a  servitor  of 
big  business.  The  love  of  a  fine  girl  turns  Bibb's  life  from 
failure  to  success. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  INDIANA.    Frontispiece. 

A  story  of  love  and  politics, — more  especially  a  picture  of 
a  country  editor's  life  in  Indiana,  but  the  charm  of  the  book 
lies  in  the  love  interest. 

THE  FLIRT,    Illustrated  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 

The  "  Flirt,"  the  younger  of  two  sisters,  breaks  one  girl's 
engagement,  drives  one  man  to  suicide,  causes  the  murder 
of  another,  leads  another  to  lose  his  fortune,  and  in  the  end 
marries  a  stupid  and  unpromising  suitor,  leaving  the  really 
worthy  one  to  marry  her  sister. 

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THE  NOVELS  OF 

STEWARD    EDWARD    WHITE 

May  bi  had  whirever  books  are  told.     Ash  for  Srooet  I  Dunlap's  Hit 

THE  BLAZED  TRAIL.      Illustrated  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

A  wholesome  story  with  gleams  of  humor,  telling  of  a  young  man 
who  blazed  his  way  to  fortune  through  the  heart  of  the  Michigan 
pines. 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  NORTH.      Ills,  with  Scenes  from  the  Play. 

The  story  centers  about  a  Hudson  Bay  trading  post,  known  as 
"  The  Conjuror's  House  "  (the  original  title  of  the  book.) 
THE  RIVERMAN.      Ills,  by  N.  C.  Wyeth  and  C.  F.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  man's  fight  against  a  river  and  of  a  struggle  be- 
tween honesty  and  grit  on  the  one  side,  and  dishonesty  and  shrewd- 
ness on  the  other. 
RULES  OF  THE  GAME.     Illustrated  by  Lejaren  A.  Hiller. 

The  romance  of  the  eon  of  "  The  Riverman."     The  young  college 
hero  goes  into  the  lumber  camp,  is  antagonized  by  "  graft."  and 
comes  into  the  romance  of  his  life. 
GOLD.     Illustrated  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

The  gold  fever  of   '49  is  pictured  with  vividness.     A  part  of  the 
story  is  laid  in  Panama,  the  route  taken  by  the  gold-seekers. 
THE  FOREST.      Illustrated  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

The  book  tells  of  the  canoe  trip  of  the  author  and  his  companion 
into  the  great  woods.     Much  information  about  camping  and  out- 
door life.     A  splendid  treatise  on  woodcraft. 
THE  MOUNTAINS.       Illustrated  by  Fernand  Lungren. 

An  account  of  the  adventures  of  a  five  months'  camping  trip  in 
the  Sierras  of  California.     The  author  has  followed  a  true  sequence 
of  events. 
THE  CABIN.     Illustrated  with  photographs  by  the  author. 

A  chronicle  of  the  building  of  a  cabin  home  in  a  forest-girdled 
meadow   of  the   Sierras.    Full  of   nature  and  woodcraft,  and  the 
shrewd  philosophy  of  "California  John." 
THE  GRAY  DAWN.      Illustrated  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

This  book  tells  of  the  period  shortly  after  the  first  mad  rush  for 
gold  in  California.  A  young  lawyer  and  his  wife,  initiated  into  the 
gay  life  of  San  Francisco,  find  their  ways  parted  through  his  down- 
ward course,  bat  succeeding  events  bring  the  "  gray  dawn  of  better 
things  "  for  both  of  them. 

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RE-ISSUES  OF  THE  GREAT  LITERARY  SUCCESSES  OF  THE  TIME 
iliy  b«  had  wturtvtr  bookt  m  told.        Art  far  Grostrt  ft  Ounlap't  Ifrt 

BEN    HUR.    A  Tale  of  the  Christ.    By  General  Lew  Wallace 

This  famous  Religious-Historical  Romance  with  its  mighty  story, 
brilliant  pageantry,  thrilling  action  and  deep  religious  reverence, 
hardly  requires  an  outline.  The  whole  world  has  placed  "Ben-Hur" 
on  a  height  of  pre-eminence  which  no  other  novel  of  its  time  has 
reached.  The  clashing  of  rivalry  and  the  deepest  human  passions, 
the  perfect  reproduction  of  brilliant  Roman  life,  and  the  tense,  fierce 
atmosphere  of  the  arena  have  kept  their  deep  fascination. 

THE    PRINCE  OE  INDIA.    By  General  Lew  Wallace 

A  glowing  romance  of  the  By*antine  Empire,  showing,  with  vivid 
imagination,  the  possible  forces  beuind  the  internal  decay  of  the  Em- 
pire that  hastened  the  fall  of  Constantinople. 

The  foreground  figure  is  the  person  known  to  all  as  the  Wan- 
dering Jew,  at  this  time  appearing  as  the  Prince  of  India,  with  vast 
stores  of  wealth,  and  is  supposed  to  have  instigated  many  wars  and 
fomented  the  Crusades. 

Mohammed's  love  for  the  Princess  Irene  is  beautifully  wrought 
inlo  the  story,  and  the  book  as  a  whole  is  a  marvelous  work  both 
.historically  and  romantically. 

THE  FAIR  GOD.  By  General  Lew  Wallace.  A  Tale  of  the 
Conquest  of  Mexico.  With  Eight  Illustrations  by  Eric  Pape. 

All  the  annals  of  conquest  have  nothing  more  brilliantly  daring 
and  dramatic  than  the  drama  played  in  Mexicp  by  Cortes.  As  a 
dazzling  picture  of  Mexico  and  the  Montezumas  it  leaves  nothing  to 
be  desired. 

The  artist  has  caught  with  rare  enthusiasm  the  spirit  of  the 
Spanish  conquerors  of  Mexico,  its  beauty  and  glory  and  romance. 

TARRY  THOU  TILL  I  COME  or,  Salathiel,  the  Wandering 
Jew.  By  George  Croly.  With  twenty  illustrations  by  T.  de  Thulstrup 

A  historical  novel,  dealing  with  the  momentous  events  that  oc- 
curred, chiefly  in  Palestine,  from  the  time  of  the  Crucifixion  to  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem. 

The  book,  as  a  story,  is  replete  with  Oriental  charm  and  richness, 
and  the  character  drawing  is  marvelous.  No  other  novel  ever  written 
has  portrayed  with  such  vividness  the  events  that  convulsed  Rome 
and  destroyed  Jerusalem  in  the  early  days  of  Chrictanity. 

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NOVELS    OF   SOUTHERN    LIFE 

By  THOMAS  DIXON,  JR. 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grnsset  &  Dunlap's  list 

THE  LEOPARD'S   SPOTS:        A    Story   of   the    White    Man's 
Burden,  1865-1900.    With  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

A  tale  of  the  South  about  the  dramatic  events  of  Destruction. 
Reconstruction  and  Upbuilding.  The  work  is  able  and  eloquent  and 
the  verifiable  events  of  history  are  followed  closely  in  the  develop- 
ment  of  a  story  full  of  struggle. 

THE  CLANSMAN.    With  illustrations  by  Arthur  I.  Keller. 

While  not  connected  with  it  in  any  way,  this  is  a  companion  vol- 
ume to  the  author's  "epoch-making"  story  The  Leopard's  Spots.  It 
is  a  novel  with  a  great  deal  to  it,  and  which  very  properly  is  going  to 
interest  many  thousands  of  readers.  *  *  *  It  is,  first  of  all,  a  forceful, 
dramatic,  absorbing  love  story,  with  a  sequence  of  events  so  surprising 
that  one  is  prepared  for  the  fact  that  much  of  it  is  fouuded  on  actual 
happenings;  but  Mr.  Dixon  has,  as  before,  a  deeper  purpose — he  has 
aimed  to  show  that  the  original  formers  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  were 
modern  knights  errant  taking  the  only  means  at  hand  to  right 
intolerable  wrongs. 

THE    TRAITOR.    A  Story  of  the  Fall  of  the  Invisible  Empire. 
Illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

The  third  and  last  book  in  this  remarkable  trilogy  of  novels  relat- 
ing to  Southern  Reconstruction.  It  is  a  thrilling  story  of  love,  ad- 
venture, treason,  and  the  United  States  Secret  Service  dealing  with 
the  decline  and  fall  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan. 

COMRADES.    Illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

A  novel  dealing  with  the  establishment  of  a  Socialistic  Colony 
upon  a  deserted  island  off  the  coast  of  California.  The  way  of  dis- 
illusionment is  the  course  over  which  Mr.  Dixon  conducts  the  reader. 

THE  ONE  WOMAN.    A  Story  of  Modern  Utopia. 

A  love  story  and  character  study  of  three  strong  men  and  two  fas- 
cinating  women.  In  swift,  unified,  and  dramatic  action,  we  see  So- 
cialism a  deadly  force,  in  the  hour  of  the  eclipse  of  Faith,  destroying 
the  home  life  and  weakening  the  fiber  of  Anglo  Saxon  manhood. 

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CHARMING  BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS 

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WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE.    By  Jean  Webster. 

Illustrated  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been 
•written.  It  is  bright,  •whimsical  and  entertaining,  lifelike,  laughable 
and  thoroughly  human. 

JUST    PATTY,    By  Jean  Webster. 

Illustrated  by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

Patty  is  full  of  the  joy  of  living,  fun-loving,  given  to  ingenious 
mischief  for  its  own  sake,  with  a  disregard  for  pretty  convention  which 
is  an  unfailing  source  of  joy  to  her  fellows. 

THE  POOR  LITTLE  RICH  GIRL,    By  Eleanor  Gates.  \ 

With  four  full  page  illustrations. 

This  story  relates  the  experience  of  one  of  those  unfortunate  chil- 
dren whose  early  days  are  passed  in  the  companionship  of  a  governess, 
seldom  seeing  either  parent,  and  famishing  for  natural  love  and  tender- 
ness. A  charming  play  as  dramatized  by  the  author. 

REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK    FARM,       By  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  studies  of  childhood — Rebecca's  artistic, 
unusual  and  quaintly  charming  qualities  stand  out  midst  a  circle  of 
amstere  New  Englanders.  The  stage  version  is  making  a  phenominal 
dramatic  record. 

NEW  CHRONICLES  OF  REBECCA,    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

Additional  episodes  in  the  girlhood  of  this  delightful  heroine  that 
carry  Rebecca  through  various  stages  to  her  eighteenth  birthday. 

REBECCA  MARY,    By  Annie  Hamilton  DonnelL 
Illustrated  by  Elizabeth  Shippen  Green. 

This  author  possesses  the  rare  gift  of  portraying  all  the  grotesque 
little  joys  and  sorrows  and  scruples  of  this  very  small  girl  with  a  pa- 
thos that  is  peculiarly  genuine  and  appealing. 

EMMY  LOU;    Her  Book  and  Heart,    By  George  Madden  Martin. 
Illustrated  by  Charles  Louis  Hinton. 

Emmy  Lou  is  irresistibly  lovable,  because  she  is  so  absolutely  real 
She  is  just  a  bewitchingly  innocent,  hugable  little  maid.  The  book  is 
wonderfully  human. 

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TITLES    SELECTED    FROM 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAFS  LIST 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  far  Grossef  &  Dunlap's  list 

THE  SILENT  CALL.    By    Edwin    Milton   Royle.     Illustrated 
with  scenes  from  the  play. 

The  hero  of  this  story  is  the  Squaw  Man's  son.  He  has 
been  taken  to  England,  but  spurns  conventional  life  for  the  sake 
of  the  untamed  West  and  a  girl's  pretty  face. 

JOHN  MARCH,    SOUTHERNER.    By  George  W.  Cable. 

A  story  of  the  pretty  women  and  spirited  men  of  the  South. 
As  fragrant  in  sentiment  as  a  sprig  of  magnolia,  and  as  full  of 
mystery  and  racial  troubles  as  any  romance  of  "after  the  war" 
days. 

MR.  JUSTICE  RAFFLES.    By  E.  W.  Hornung. 

This  engaging  rascal  is  found  helping  a  young  cricket  playet 
out  of  the  toils  of  a  money  shark.  Novel  in  plot,  thrilling  and 
amusing. 

FORTY  MINUTES  LATE.  By  F.  Hopkinson  Smith.  Illustrated 
by  S.  M.  Chase. 

Delightfully  human  stories  of  every  day  happenings;  of  a 
lecturer's  laughable  experience  because  he  s  late,  a  young  woman's 
excursion  into  the  stock  market,  etc. 

OLD  LADY  NUMBER  31.    By  Louise  Forsslund. 

A  heart-warming  story  of  American  rural  life,  telling  of  the 
adventures  of  an  old  couple  in  an  old  folk's  home,  their  sunny, 
philosophical  acceptance  of  misfortune  and  ultimate  prosperity. 

THE  HUSBAND'S  STORY.    By  David  Graham  Phillips. 

A  story  that  has  given  all  Europe  ris  well  as  all  America  much 
food  for  thought.  A  young  couple  begin  life  in  humble  circum- 
stances and  rise  in  worldly  matters  until  the  husband  is  enormously 
rich— the  wife  in  the  most  aristocratic  European  society— but  at  the 
price  of  their  happiness. 

THE  TRAIL  OF  NINETY -EIGHT.      By  Robert  W.  Service 
Illustrated  by  Maynard  Dixon. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  "Vagabondia"  ever  written,  and 
one  of  the  most  accurate  and  picturesque  descriptions  of  the  stam- 
pede of  gold  seekers  to  the  Yukon.  The  love  story  embedded  in 
the  narrative  is  strikingly  original. 

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